The Matrix: Evolution
by Rurouni Tyriel
Summary: (INCOMPLETE) The human race has evolved, and the mutants now fight to free them all from the control of the machines. This is their story. Please R&R!
1. Prologue

Prologue:  
  
(Ring)  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
"Is everythang in place?"  
  
"...."  
  
"Ah said, is everythang in place?"  
  
"You weren't supposed to relieve me yet"  
  
"Ah know but ah felt like taking a shift."  
  
"You like him, doncha girl? You like watching him?"  
  
"Wolverine believes him to be the One."  
  
"Do you?"  
  
"Ah.. It doesn't mattah what ah believe..."  
  
"You do, don't you?"  
  
(Faint Click)  
  
"Didja hear that?"  
  
"Hear what?"  
  
"Ahre ya sure this lahne is clean?"  
  
"'course I am."  
  
"Ah'd better go."  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
The door slammed down, kicked by the rather impressive boot of a surly police officer as his gun quickly leveled onto the innocent seeming occupant of the run-down hotel room.  
  
"Police! Freeze!" he ordered, moving forward just a little so he was out of the line of fire of his fellow cops (totaling six) behind him as he regarded the criminal.  
  
Now that he was in he could get a better view of the room and its occupant.  
  
The room was completely devoid of all furniture save a simple chair and desk. No posters on the walls, no windows, no nothing. A single phone line, hooked up to a laptop on the desk, where the only light in the room emanated from, that was about it. The girl herself was more unusual than the room, however.  
  
She was dressed in tight black clothes of a material he couldn't identify in the light, probably leather, that clung to her developing womanly curves like a second skin, leaving only her hands and head free. Her hair was auburn with a distinct white streak down the front, and he couldn't see her face too well. A pair of black leather gloves covered her hands. Most flinched or tried to cover up their work, jumped six feet in the air at the sight of armed cops breaking in. This one, little girl, could've been more than seventeen years old, didn't even flinch. This, if anything, made the first cop even more nervous.  
  
"Hands behind your head!" he shouted. "Now! Do it!"  
  
Very, very slowly, Rogue's hands raised up behind her head and she stood slowly... 


	2. Chapter One: Pursuit

Chapter One: Pursuit  
  
Meanwhile, out on the streets, the remainder of the cops were waiting for their first squad to return with the prisoner. Lieutenant Fury, in charge of the little outfit, was a little surprised the higher ups had wanted this one slip of a girl hacker, but orders were orders.  
  
A black limo rolled into the alleyway and he cursed softly, shifting his one good eye (his other having been lost in an accident he preferred not to think about it) to regard it as out stepped three individuals, each similar, yet very unalike.  
  
One slinked out the backdoor of the car, clambered onto the hood and sat there, watching quietly. He was limber, almost as if he has no bones in his entire body, and Fury made out his skin was pale, almost sickly green. His disheveled brown hair looked like it hadn't been washed in weeks, and the stench wafting off him only confirmed this.  
  
The second, sliding out of the passengers side, was enormous, and the car creaked as the great behemoth rolled out. His own clothes barely fit his enormous, six foot frame, let along his enormous sagging gut. A blonde mohawk completed his look.  
  
The third and final to emerge, the driver, was tall and lanky with brown bangs that came down in front of his face, dressed like the others, he walked with a sense of purpose and power. A born leader, if ever there was one. All three were dressed in crisp business suits, earphones and (for some reason Fury couldn't imagine) sunglasses, even in the dead of the night.  
  
"Lieutenant?" began the tall one, making his way over to Fury.  
  
"Aw shit," cursed Fury under his breath.  
  
"Lieutenant, you were given very specific orders...." he began in a monotone drawl.  
  
"Just doing my job. You gimme that my jurisdiction crap and you can cram it up your ass."  
  
"Those orders were for your protection," replied the agent, unnervingly cool as he faced Fury. Fury's response was to laugh.  
  
"I think we can handle one little girl," he replied. Frowning, the first fellow motioned for the smaller one to accompany him. The big, fat one stayed behind by the car, his head swerving back and forth slowly, watching, waiting....  
  
"I sent two units. They're bringing her down now," said Fury nervously. These damn suits unnerved him, though he'd never admit it.  
  
"No, Lieutenant. By now your men are already dead."  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Rogue waited, just as the police officer was about to snap his handcuff around her wrist, then....  
  
What happened was almost too fast for the officers to comprehend, let alone respond to. The little girl exploded into action before them, her palm snapping up and slamming the first cop in the nose, sending blood flying as she leapt up into the air, arms at her sides and hung suspended for a fraction of a second as she kicked the heavyset fellow and slammed him right into the cop behind him.  
  
The remaining cops reacted immediately, loosing bullets, but Rogue was untouchable, moving with lightning fast fluidity, running up and along the wall, finally dropping down, grabbing one cop and redirecting his fire to his fellow, then kicking up over her own head and into his face, wasting no time in using his own firearm to finish the job.  
  
In less than a minute, all were dead.  
  
Rogue immediately grabbed her cellphone from the desk (strangely untouched by the fight that had just erupted) and flipped it open, auto-dialing a number she knew by heart anyway.  
  
"Operator?" came the voice, soft. Not the same as before, deeper, heavier.  
  
"Wolverine. The line was traced. Ah don't know how."  
  
"I know. They cut the hardline. This line isn't an option."  
  
"Ahre there agents?" she asked, starting to pace around the room.  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"Goddamnit."  
  
"Focus, stripes. There is a phone. Wells and Lake. You can make it."  
  
"Ahlright...." she said softly, taking a deep breath to steady herself.  
  
"Go," said Wolverine. Rogue snapped the phone shut and ran....  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Rogue burst out into the hallway, big mistake. Immediately the smaller figure came into view, leading another group of cops. Fear made her heart hammer as she recognized the distinct business suit and sunglasses. An agent! She ran in the opposite direction, but the short fellow was fast on her heels. She quickly slid through a broken window and onto the fire escape, about to jump downwards when she spotted the giant of an agent below her. Not an option.... so up was all that was left, and she climbed for all she was worth towards the roof.  
  
The cops and the agent hurried after her as she made her way to the edge of the roof and just leapt, flying high over the edge of the buildings and over six lanes of traffic below her to the opposing roof. Not even slowing down, her pursuer did the same, leaving only the cops to watch in awe at the inhuman movements of the agent and hacker.  
  
Without even pausing, Rogue rolled and flowed like quicksilver and kept running and hid behind a nearby vent. The agent slowed as he landed with precision, his gun in his hand, scanning the rooftop with his cold, hidden eyes. A fly passed by, idly his tongue, long and green, snapped out and grabbed it. Rogue's stomach churned, but she kept herself quiet, not wanting to give herself away.  
  
Then she spotted an exit. A window on the far building, unnoticed by the loathsome agent. Without even pausing to think, because those few seconds could be the end of her, she leapt up and ran for all she was worth, leaping head-first, arms forward to cover her head as she smashed forward through the glass and rolled down the stairway, landing hard on her back, instinctinctively drawing out her two guns instantly in her hands, aiming up at the glass, lined hole, waiting for the agent to appear....  
  
.... but he didn't.  
  
"Get up, Rogue...." she said to herself, trying to take a moment to recover from her rather painful entrance and fall. Time she didn't have, but he body was being resistant.  
  
"Get UP, Rogue," she snarled, and instantly leapt to her feet, still running, trying to make it to the corner of Wells and Lake, where her salvation lay.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Rogue arrived at the telephone booth moments later, still running. No agents in sight, but they could be anywhere, she knew. They were -everywhere-. But there was the booth, the phone ringing. Her exit.  
  
Suddenly a huge garbage truck U-turned along the street, its tires roaring to life, breaking the silence of the night as the truck turned and faced the phone booth, in no uncertain terms preparing to ram it and destroy her exit. She had little doubt who was driving it, but she had no choice.  
  
Both she and the truck surged forward at the same moment, Rogue flipped open the door, grabbed the phone and pressed it to her ear seconds before the truck smashed into the glass box, shattering it into shards of twisted metal and glass.... but no body.  
  
The Rogue had vanished.  
  
Agent Lance Alvers growled, sliding out of the damaged truck to survey the damage. He sensed, more than saw, his two companions move alongside him. Agent Frederick Dukes and Agent Todd Tolenski. Both of them were calm, to judge by their expressions. Agent Lance was furious, and the ground grumbled a little.  
  
"She got out," intoned Agent Todd in monotone.  
  
"It doesn't matter," replied Agent Lance.  
  
"The informant is real," said Agent Todd, answering his own question to Lance's cryptic statement. It was as if they shared the same mind.  
  
"Yes."  
  
"We have the name of their next target," cut in Agent Fred, hardly missing a beat in their conversation.  
  
"The name is Cyclops," supplied Todd.  
  
"We'll need a search running," replied Lance.  
  
"Its already begun," replied Fred with something close to a smirk on his face. As one, the three agents went their separate ways. 


	3. Chapter Two: White Rabbit

Chapter Two: White Rabbit  
  
Elsewhere, in an apartment just outside of Bayville there slept a poor unfortunate soul whose life was about to change.... drastically. Scott Summers, student at Bayville High, part time hacker and even less part time mutant and vigilante.  
  
Currently, sleeping in a pile of his own filth.  
  
To say his home was in shambles was a dreadful understatement. A small, one room apartment building with all the comforts of home, scattered with various technical equipment, books, and clothes. Tidiness was not his top priority. He lay asleep at his desk, partially laying on top of his keyboard.  
  
The screen suddenly went blank. Scott Summers, accustomed to falling asleep with the light of his monitor still glaring against his closed eyelids, shifted a little, stirring.  
  
The screen went black, and letters started to appear as Scott raised his head. Frowning, he shifted position to get a better view of his computer screen, adjusting his ruby-red sunglasses so he has a clearer view of the words now being printed.  
  
{Wake-Up, Cyclops}, they said.  
  
Scott raised an eyebrow, blinking his eyes, and idly wondered if he was still asleep.  
  
The words vanished, to be replaced by new ones. {The Matrix has you}, they said. Scott grimaced, typing onto his keyboard, trying to figure out what the hell was going on.  
  
"What the fuck....?" he asked to no one in particular.  
  
{Follow the White Rabbit}  
  
"Follow the white rabbit? What?"  
  
{Knock, Knock, Cyclops}  
  
A soft knock then came at his door, and Scott almost jumped clean out of his skin. He looked quickly at the door, then back at his computer, but to his surprise it had gone blank, leaving him to wonder if it had been there in the first place.  
  
"Weird," he muttered to himself as he lifted himself up and made his way to the entrance.  
  
"Who is it?" he asked through the thick wooden portal.  
  
"It's Ray," came the quick reply. Scott grimaced, flipping the various locks and chains designed to keep people out and opened the door. Standing in the hallway was a ner'do'well by the name of Ray Crisp, a streetwise punk who was about to pull a major heist with Scott's hacker skills.  
  
"You're late," said Scott, eyeing the blonde and orange haired punk of a kid before him, surrounded as usual by his usual group of friends.  
  
"I know.... her fault," he said with a smirk, wrapping his arm around a pretty asian girl in a yellow tube top standing next to him. She smiled, clinging to him as she battered her eyelids. Scott wasn't impressed.  
  
"You got the money?"  
  
"Two grand," replied Ray, snapping his fingers. One of his faceless associates handed an envelope to Scott, who slipped it away and handed them the disk he'd made hours earlier.  
  
"Sweet mother of Christ, you are my savior man," said Ray, eyeing the disk, obviously not understanding it.... but understanding what it would bring.  
  
"If you get caught using that...." started Scott.  
  
"Yeah yeah I know. I never met you, you don't exist."  
  
"Right," replied Scott, nodding as an uneasy feeling came over him again. He kept thinking back to the message in his computer....  
  
"Hey, something wrong man? You look even paler than usual."  
  
"I don't know.... my computer...." he started, then realized he himself didn't know what had happened. "You.... ever have the feeling that you're not sure if you're awake.... or still dreaming?"  
  
"All the time," replied Ray with a knowing smirk. "Its called mescaline, and it's the only way to fly."  
  
Scott rolled his eyes behind his sunglasses, glad that few people could see the gesture. He made his way to close the door and be rid of his unpleasant business partners.  
  
"It sounds to me like you need to unplug man. A little R and R. What do you think, Jubes," he asked, addressing the asian girl clinging to his arm. "Should we take him with us?"  
  
Jubes eyes snaked downwards along Scott's well-toned form before returning to eye level as she smirked and said "Definently."  
  
"I can't," replied Scott. "I got classes early tomorrow."  
  
"Oh come on," she said, shifting position, one arm climbing up to Ray's shoulder. "It'll be fun."  
  
Scott was about to refuse again, since if he was late again his teacher was going to kill him, not to mention fail the course, but then he noticed something that made his blood run cold.  
  
A tattoo on Jubes shoulder.  
  
A tattoo of a white rabbit.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Loud music, scantily clad teens, flowing alcohol and air filled with smoke, both nicotine and drug laced.  
  
All in all, a typical college party held by Duncan Mathews.  
  
Scott for the most part kept himself out of the gathering of others. He'd never really felt comfortable around others since discovering his mutation. Having the power to indiscriminately blow a hole through a mountain (or house wall) didn't make him very popular. It had only been through sheer luck he'd found the ruby spectacles that allowed him to actually leave his eyes open and never hurt anyone.... as long as they never slipped.  
  
Scott sighed, sipping his beer, and was infinitely glad he didn't have roommate.  
  
Scott was about to toss his empty bottle into the recycling and bail on the party when he spotted someone that just made his trip worthwhile. A pretty girl with a distinct white lock in her auburn hair, emerald green eyes and pale ivory skin. She was dressed in a black tube top that looked to Scott like it was on the verge of falling off.... not that he was complaining, mind you.  
  
To his surprise, she walked straight up to him and smiled.  
  
"Hello, Cyclops," she said softly.  
  
"How do you know my name?" he asked back, equally soft. He hoped no one was paying attention to their conversation.  
  
"Ah know a lot about ya. Ah've been wanting to meet you for some time."  
  
"Who are you?" he asked suspiciously, frowning.  
  
"Some call me Rogue."  
  
"Rogue? -The- Rogue? The Rogue that cracked into the I.R.S. D-Base?"  
  
"That was ah long time ago," she replied softly.  
  
"Jee-sus," Scott whispered to himself, turning his head. Rogue raised an eyebrow.  
  
"What?"  
  
"I just thought.... didn't expect.... this...." he said, motioning vaguely in her direction.  
  
"Its ahlright sugah.... I just hope you're not disappointed," she added with a smirk.  
  
"Do you want to go somewhere and talk?" Scott asked after an awkward silence.  
  
"No. It's safe here and ah don't have much time anyway," she replied, moving in closer, standing directly in front of Scott and to one side, talking into his ear as the music level rose, making it harder to hear one another.  
  
"That was you on my computer, wasn't it?" he asked into her ear, trying to ignore how close they were.... or what effect the close proximity of her body was doing to his hormones.  
  
"Yes."  
  
"How did you do that?"  
  
"Right now, all ah can tell ya is that ya are in danger. Ah brought ya here to warn ya."  
  
"Of what?"  
  
"They're watchin' ya, Scott," she said softly in her southern drawl.  
  
"Who?"  
  
"Please. Just listen. Ah know why ya're here, Scott. Ah know what ya've been doin'. Ah know why ya hardly sleep, why ya live alone and why, naight after naight ya sit at ya're computer, ya're lookin' for him. Ah know because ah was once lookin' for the same thing, but when he found me, he told me ah wasn't lookin' for him, ah was lookin' for an answer," she intoned softly into his ear. Scott could feel part of himself responding to her words, some part deep in his mind, almost instinctively.  
  
"It's the question that drives us, the question that brought ya here. Ya know the question, just as ah did."  
  
"What is the Matrix?" he replied, though it was more of a statement than a question.  
  
"The answer is out there, Scott. Its lookin' for ya, and it will find ya, if ya want it to," she said with a smile as she slipped back away from Scott and vanished back into the crowds.... 


	4. Chapter Three: Lack of Faith

Chapter Three: Lacking Faith  
  
Beep. Beep. Beep.  
  
Scott's hand reacted before his mind fully woke up, reaching out and slamming down hard on his alarm clock as he woke up, back in his apartment after what had undoubtedly been the strangest night of his life. Frowning, he slipped on his sunglasses and, squinting through half-closed eyelids, tried to make out the time.  
  
9:15am.  
  
"Shit," he muttered.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Dean of Students Edward Kelly wasn't an imposing man. Only slightly taller than Scott himself, but he was filled with a sense of arrogance and pride that made the young student sick to his stomach, regardless.  
  
"You seem to have a problem with authority, Mr. Summers. You seem to think you're special, that somehow the rules do not apply to you. Obviously, you're mistaken," he said, looking at Scott across his wire-rim glasses, his expression one of stern displeasure.  
  
"This school is one of the top in New York," he went on. "Because the students here are dedicated and function by simple rules, like a football team. Thus, if one student has a problem, the team has a problem. The time has come for you to make a choice, Mr. Summers. Either you start showing up to class, on time, every day, for the remainder of the semester.... or you find yourself at another school. Do I make myself clear?"  
  
"Perfectly," replied Scott, half-asleep still. One benefit of his eyewear was that it made it impossible for someone to tell if he was awake or asleep. An invaluable asset in some of his lecture studies.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Technical Class.  
  
Waste of time, easy A, and really, really boring.  
  
Scott typed away at his computer. As always, he was isolated from the other students near the back of the room. The old building was nine stories up, and their classroom was on the top floor.  
  
Class was supposed to be working on the C++ programs for their midterms.  
  
Scott was "browsing" the internet.  
  
"Scott?" came a voice to his side. Scott tilted his head, careful to keep his screen out of view of his fellow classmate, who handed him a package. "For you. Some weird guy outside handed it to me, said to get it to you during class."  
  
"Thanks Paul," he said, ripping open the package as soon as his blonde friend has left, inside was a cellphone.  
  
The instant it fell into his hand, it started to ring.  
  
Surprised, but not entirely sure what to do, he opened it and answered the phone.  
  
"Hello?"  
  
"Hello Cyke, do you know who this is?"  
  
"Wolverine," he replied softly, his legs suddenly weak. This was all too unreal. He sank back down into his chair, ignoring his computer as he talked into the phone for the man he'd been searching for years for.  
  
"I'm not sure if you're ready to see what I got to show you, but unfortunately, we've run out of time. They're coming for you, Cyke, and I'm not sure what they've planned, but I don't imagine its going to be pretty."  
  
"Who's coming for me?"  
  
"Stand up and see for yourself," came the reply, sending a shiver down Scott's spine.  
  
"Right now?"  
  
"Yes. Now," came the reply. Scott frowned, then started to rise from his chair, to peer over the low walls of the computer lab that kept one student from copying another's work. "Slowly, by the elevator," added Wolverine, and Scott almost ducked back down again. How could this person know what he was doing? Reluctantly he peered over the edge of the wall.  
  
Three men, dressed in crisp business suits, earphones and sunglasses stood near the door to the elevator, as well as half a dozen policemen. Scott cursed and ducked back down as Taryn pointed out his desk.  
  
"Holy shit," he cursed into the phone, unsure of what to do.  
  
"Yup," replied Wolverine.  
  
"What the hell do they want from me?" he asked, quickly shutting off his computer and crouching down low.  
  
"I don't know, but if you don't want to find out, you'd better get out of there...."  
  
"How?" asked Scott, eagerly grabbing on to what seemed like his own chance to escape.  
  
"I can guide you, but you gotta do exactly what I say, bub," came the reply. "The desk across from you is empty, hide underneath it."  
  
"But what if....?"  
  
"Go! Now!"  
  
Scott didn't even hesitate, just acted on gut instinct and all but threw himself forward and underneath the empty desk, curling himself into a ball just as the three men in suits headed towards his own desk, narrowly missing the sight of his shoes vanishing from view.  
  
"Stay here a moment," whispered Wolverine softly through the phone, as if aware of just how close the men were. The shorter, green-tinged one and the large, fat one regarded one another for a moment, then in eerie sycronization turned in opposite directions and continued their search.  
  
"When I tell you to, go to the end of the row to the exit of the classroom on the left, use that and head into room 905. Stay as low as you can."  
  
Scott tried to slow his breathing, his heart was pounding in his chest as he waited in fear.  
  
"Now."  
  
Scott started to bolt forward but stopped so suddenly he almost fell backwards on his ass as he spotted the large agent in front of him (though thankfully with his back to him) and headed in the opposite direction, keeping low as his unseen instructor had told him, moving through the thankfully open door and into the main hallway of the building, though unfortunately away from the elevator. He quickly slid into the room Wolverine had indicated, closing the door behind him and breathing a sigh of relief.  
  
"Good. Now outside there is a scaffold...."  
  
"How the hell do you know all of this?" demanded Scott tensely. His nerves were shot from everything weird going on.  
  
"The answer's coming bub, for now you gotta get out of there. There is a window in front of you. Open it."  
  
Scott reluctantly complied, putting his trust in this total stranger he'd been spending much of his life looking for. Still, it was better than the alternative. The three men in business suits had scared the hell out of him. He'd been tempted to just show them what his "eye condition" was, but some instinct within him told him that would be a bad idea.  
  
"You can use the scaffold to get to the roof."  
  
"Are you insane?" asked Scott angrily, taking a good look out the window. It was a good nine stories up, and Scott had never been a terrible fan of heights. "Its too far."  
  
"There's a ledge. It's a short climb. You can make it."  
  
Scott reluctantly looked down, and felt his stomach lurch at the very thought of it. "No way, no frickin' way, this is insane."  
  
"There are only two ways you can get out of that building. One is that scaffold. The other is in their custody. You take a chance either way. I leave it to you," he added, and then Scott heard a click that made his blood run cold. Wolverine had hung up on him. He was on his own.  
  
"This is insane.... why is this happening to me? What did I do? I'm nobody.... I didn't do anything," he muttered to himself as he reluctantly opened the window and stepped out into the small ledge, trying to remind himself not to look down.... and failing.  
  
"I'm going to die," he muttered to himself, the wind blowing through his brown hair and make his clothes rustle against his frame as he clung to the side of the building and tried to inch his way towards the scaffold which now seemed, if possible, even further away.  
  
A sudden gust of wind slapped him and he instinctively grabbed the building, accidentally letting go of the cell phone. It tumbled down below, and Scott imagined he could see what happened to it.... it would've shattered into a million pieces on the cold stone ground below. Scott would've been next.  
  
"I can't do this...." he whispered softly to himself. Reluctantly, he climbed back inside of the building, just as the door was all but ripped from its frame by the giant blob in a business suit.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
The three agents, surrounded by the several cops had handcuffed Scott and directed him to a black limo waiting outside of the building. Students mulled around, idly wondering what had happened, coming up with all sorts of wild ideas, though none could imagine just what had happened.  
  
Only one, young woman knew what had happened. She lay atop of her motorcycle, watching the entire thing through the rear-view mirror, in case the agents happened to recognize her. She saw them take Scott away.  
  
"Shit," she cursed, revving up the engine and riding away. 


	5. Chapter Four: Fear

Chapter Four: Fear  
  
Scott was unceremoniously ushered into a small interrogation room, white walls, camera survelleince, the works. This wasn't some police organization, this was high-tech, he immediately recognized. These people meant business.  
  
Then the three of them entered, the large one and small one to one side each, not speaking, the third, an individual of Scott's height with long brown bangs coming down across his sunglasses, dropped a manilla folder between the two of them and sat down, smiling almost pleasantly. On the folder was written, 'Summers, Scott.'  
  
"As you can see, Mr. Summers," he began. "We've had our eye on you for some time now. It seems," he added as he opened the folder and pulled out some pages. "That you've been living.... two lives.... in one life, you are Scott Summers, student at Bayville University. You have a social security number, pay your taxes, and you.... help your landlady when her cat gets stuck in a tree."  
  
Scott didn't even flinch, he knew what was coming. "In the other life, you go by the hacker alias Cyclops and are guilty of virtually every computer crime we have a law against, Mr. Summers," added the agent dramatically. "One of these lives, has a future.... and the other does not."  
  
Scott shivered inwardly as the agent removed his sunglasses for the first time, his unnaturally cold, dark brown eyes seeming to bore into Scott's, even through his own pair of sunglasses.  
  
"I'm going to be as forthcoming as I can be, Mr. Summers. You are here because we need your help. We know you've been contacted by a certain individual. A man who calls himself Wolverine," he said softly. His partners behind him exchanged a glance, and Scott could feel the tension building at the mention of that name. "Whatever you think you may know about this man is irrelevant. He is considered by many authorities to be the most dangerous man alive."  
  
The agent leaned forward towards Scott, no doubt trying to intimidate him, but Scott was used to deal with thick-headed bullies before. He knew not to show fear.  
  
"My colleagues believe that I am wasting my time with you, but I believe you want to do the right thing. It is obvious you're an intelligent man, Mr. Summers, and that you are interested in the future. We are willing to wipe the slate clean, to give you a fresh start.... and all we're asking in exchange is your cooperation in bringing a known terrorist to justice."  
  
"Wow," said Scott softly. "That sounds like a really good deal. But hmm.... let me see. I've got a better one for you. I give you the finger," he said, doing just that. The agent didn't even flinch. "And you give my my phone call."  
  
"You disappoint me, Summers," replied the first agent, sliding back on his sunglasses.  
  
"You can't scare me with this Gestapo bullshit. I know my rights. I want my phone call," he added, speaking slowly, as if to a child. But to his surprise, instead of getting angry, the agent only smirked.  
  
"What good is a phone call if you're unable to speak....?" he asked quietly.  
  
Scott felt a chill run down his spine.  
  
To his astonishment and horror, he felt his lips grow soft and sticky, and seal over one another. He stumbled backwards in shock, sure that the agents were somehow responsible for this as all traces of his mouth vanished from his face. Giving a muffled cry he sprang for the door but the big agent grabbed him and slammed him back down onto the table, as the little one hopped up alongside him and tore open his t-shirt.  
  
"You're going to help us, Mr. Summers," said Agent Lance. "Whether you want to or not," he added, pulling something out of his coat that resembled a fiber-optic wire tap. Scott tried to struggle but his opponent had the strength of five men, and his hands were pinned so he couldn't reach his sunglasses, and all he could do was watch in horror and confusion as the device.... activated. It began to move and writhe, becoming alive, and Lance dropped it onto his stomach, where it slid towards his navel....  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Scott bolted upright, half-screaming before he realized where he was. Back at home, in his bed. His hands quickly checked, he was untouched, his mouth intake, his stomach free of.... well, whatever the hell that thing had been. Maybe it had all been a nightmare.  
  
He certainly hoped so, as he dropped back down against his pillow.  
  
Suddenly the phone rang.  
  
Scott watched it dully, no longer frightened. Everything was too strange, too weird. It was like he was dreaming. Reluctantly, he picked up the phone.  
  
"This line is tapped, so I gotta be brief," came the voice he'd heard earlier in the day. Wolverine. "They got to you first, but they've underestimated how important you are. If they knew what I knew.... you would probably be dead."  
  
"What the hell is going on?" he asked quietly, unable to think of any other possible question.  
  
"You are the One, Cyke. You see, you may have spent the last few years looking for me, but I've spent my -entire- -life- looking for you. Do you still wish to meet?"  
  
"Yes," replied Scott. It was instinct. Wolverine was his only option if he wanted answers.  
  
"Go to the Adams Street bridge." 


	6. Chapter Five: Bye Bye Bayville

Chapter Five: Bye Bye, Bayville  
  
Scott stood, in the pouring rain, underneath the Adams Street Bridge for Wolverine to make contact with him. He'd donned a brown coat and laced up some boots, but he still shivered in the cold rain as it pummeled the surface of the earth.  
  
When a long black car came into view Scott instinctively tensed, prepared to run or fight if it was the agents again. But the car slid alongside him and the back door opened. To his relief, instead of a business suit and sunglasses, he saw instead only the welcome sight of white on auburn locks and black, skin-tight leather.  
  
"Get in," said Rogue.  
  
Scott complied, glancing at the others as he did. A deeply tanned, dark haired fellow was the driver, he didn't look back so Scott couldn't get a good look at him. The other, a short, dark-haired woman with ebon eyes and stern features, turned around in the passengers side seat and fixed her gun (a rather large one, he noted) on Scott.  
  
"What the hell is this?" he asked quietly, not wanting to upset her and have his teeth blown apart.  
  
"Its for our protection," said Rogue quietly, laying a reassuring hand on Scott's shoulder.  
  
"Protection? From what?"  
  
"From you," she replied enigmatically.  
  
"Take off your shirt," said the dark woman from the front of the car.  
  
"What? Why?"  
  
"Stop the car," she said over her shoulder at her companion, who obliged, almost in the middle of the deserted streets.  
  
"Now you listen to me, shades," she said. "We don't have time for twenty questions. Right now there is one rule. Our way.... or the highway."  
  
Scott frowned. "Fine," he said, opening the door and swinging his legs out. Rogue's had went to his shoulder again, stopping him.  
  
"Scott, wait, ya have ta trust us."  
  
"Why?"  
  
"Because ya've been down that road before," she said softly as Scott stared forward, determined not to look back at her. "Ya know where it goes. And ah know that's not where ya want to be."  
  
Scott, reluctantly, closed the door and got back into the car. It started up again, and Scott reluctantly slipped off his jacket and red t-shirt, blushing just a little as Rogue watched with just a hint of interest in her eyes. The driver wasn't paying attention.  
  
"Lie back," instructed Rogue, as she reached underneath her seat and produced a device that Scott, for all his technical expertise, was at a complete loss to identify. He didn't know if it scanned for alien signals or made coffee. Rogue positioned the device over Scott's bare stomach, the glass tube covering his navel, and he suddenly had a very sinking feeling his nightmare about the agents hadn't been all that unreal.  
  
"What is this thing?" he asked, not entirely sure he wanted to know.  
  
"We think you're bugged. Try to relax," she said.  
  
Scott did his best, but it was hard when the device started to suck like a vaccum cleaner on his stomach, and he could feel something wiggle around inside of him.  
  
"Come on, ya slippery buggah," Rogue whispered as she eyed a monitor on the device, watching her quarry move.  
  
"Its on the move," commented the dark woman, still aiming her gun right between Scott's eyes and doing little to improve his comfort.  
  
"Goddamnit," Rogue cursed, working little switches and levers on the machine, doing only god knew what to Scott.  
  
"You're gonna lose it"  
  
"Like hell ah am," she replied. "Clear."  
  
Rogue flicked a switch and a short electronic shock went through Scott's stomach, flinging his head back as he dimly heard the sounds of something wet fly free of his stomach.  
  
"Jesus! That things real?!" he all but shouted in shock. Rogue, more calmly, picked up the tiny glass cage, eyeing the bug-tap idly before rolling down the window to the car and tossing it out, where it smacked soundly against the surface and shattered into a million pieces.  
  
Once Scott had calmed down he expected an explanation but the rest of the ride continued in silence, the dark woman keeping her gun trained on him, Rogue comforting Scott as best she could while he put back on his t-shirt and jacket. Finally, they arrive at their destination.... a long forgotten building, a hotel by the looks of it. Long abandoned, but not demolished.  
  
The driver and the gun-toting woman vanished to gods knew where as Rogue lead Scott up the elevator and to a simple, unremarkable door with the numbers '23' marked on it.  
  
"This is it," she said. "Let me give you one piece of advice. Be honest. He knows more about ya than ya can possibly imagine."  
  
Scott reluctantly opened the door. Inside was a simple room, fireplace to one side, two chairs and a small table between them, and many tall windows, through which one could easily see the stormy night outside and the rain as it pelted down.  
  
By the windows, staring out, was a man.  
  
Slowly, the strange man turned, facing Scott, and he could make out his features. Definently not a young man, to be sure, but no where near old. Someone in his prime. Only slightly shorter than Scott himself, he seemed to fill the room with his presence, and his power. Short and very muscular, he sported a shock of black-gray, unruly hair and a short stubble on his chin. His eyes were currently hidden by some dark shades that hung on his nose, suspended there by unknown means. This could only be Wolverine.  
  
"At last," he said. The storm echoed his statement, and thunder crashed outside, unnerving Scott further. He walked over to Scott and shook his hand, and his grip was remarkably powerful. "Welcome, Cyclops. As you have no doubt guessed.... I am Wolverine."  
  
"It's an honor," replied Scott, truly meaning every word.  
  
"No, the honor is mine. Please. Come. Sit," he said. He nodded to Rogue, who exited through an adjacent room as Scott and Wolverine took seats in their respective leather chairs, facing one another next to the fireplace.  
  
"I imagine, right now, you must be feeling a little disoriented. A little confused, am I right?" he began. Scott nodded reluctantly.  
  
"You could say that."  
  
"Believe me, I know what its like for nothing to make sense, inside our outside of your head. I can see it in your eyes. They have the look of a man who believes what he sees because he thinks hes about to wake up," he added with something close to a smirk on his face. "Ironically, that ain't far from the truth. But I'm getting ahead of myself. Why don't you tell me, Cyke, do you believe in fate?"  
  
"No," replied Scott, almost immediately.  
  
"Why not?"  
  
"Because I don't like the idea that I'm not in control of my life," Scott replied, as always trying to keep the nightmares the hovered on the edge of his mind back. Specifically, a nightmare involving a plane, a crash, and one badly burned parachute.  
  
"I know exactly what you mean," replied Wolverine, the smirk, if anything, growing wider.  
  
"Let me tell you why you are here. You have come because you know something. What you know you can't explain but you feel it. You've felt it your entire life, felt that something is wrong with the world. I do not refer to the fact that you are a mutant, but something deeper. You don't know what this something is, but its like a splinter in your mind.... driving you mad. It is this feeling that has brought you to me. Do you know what I am talking about?"  
  
"The Matrix?" asked Scott hesitantly. He wondered if it could be a trick question.  
  
"Do you want to know what it is?" he asked. Scott nodded.  
  
"The Matrix is everywhere. It is all around us, even here in this room. You can it out your window or on your television. You feel when you go to work, go to church, or pay your taxes. It is the world that has been pulled over your eyes, to blind you from the truth. The truth that you are a slave, and that you are in a prison that you cannot smell or taste or touch. A prison.... for your mind," he added, tapping his cranium. Then Wolverine paused, and sighed, leaning back in his chair.  
  
"Unfortunately no one can be told what the Matrix is.... you have to see it for yourself," he reached into his jacket, pulling out his hand and placing them together, then holding out both his hands before Scott, fist closed, facing down.  
  
"This is your last chance. After this there is no going back. You take the blue pill," he said softly, opening his left hand and showing it to Scott. "You wake up in your dormitory and believe whatever you want. You take the red pill," he opened his other hand to show that. "And your life becomes infinitely more interesting."  
  
Scott hesitated, thinking a moment. His life as it was now was a dead end. All his life he had wanted to find the answers to his questions, and if this was his only chance, he had to take it. He reached for the red pill, but Wolverine's voice stopped him once more.  
  
"Remember.... I'm only going to tell you.... the truth."  
  
Scott took the red pill, swallowed, and downed it with some water in a glass that had been laying on the table, no doubt for that purpose. Wolverine only smirked again as he rose.  
  
"Follow me," he said.  
  
Scott followed Wolverine through the same door that Rogue had exited through earlier. Inside, the small room was filled, brimming with all sorts of technology Scott couldn't even begin to identify. Things much like the device that had been used on him in the car ride. For that reason, he watched with great apprehension as he moved into the room. Rogue, the two others from the car, and one new dark-skinned, blonde-haired boy looked up as they entered.  
  
"Sunspot, we on-line?" asked Wolverine, addressing his question to the dark- skinned man who'd been driving the car earlier. Now that Scott could get a better look at him, he could see he wasn't much older than Scott himself.  
  
"Almost," came the reply, as he and Rogue worked on the complex panels and various monitors of the strange system.  
  
"Time is always against us, Cyke," said Wolverine, directing Scott over to a chair at the back of the room. "Take a seat."  
  
Scott reluctantly sat, as Rogue slid over to him and gently started attaching little white electrode disks to his body. "You did all of this?" he whispered quietly to her.  
  
Rogue nodded quietly.  
  
"The pill you took is part of a trace program," said Wolverine, startled Scott back into the here and now. "Its designed to disrupt your input/output carrier signal so we can pinpoint your location."  
  
"What does that mean?" asked Scott.  
  
"Means buckle your seat belt, S-Man. 'cause you're about to take a ride," said the as of yet unidentified blonde-haired kid.  
  
Scott watched nervously as the others worked around the keyboards of the strange machines, idly glancing at a shattered mirror to his left, getting a glimpse of his own image contained there, shaded entirely in red as he was. A slight downside to his eyewear, he only saw the world in two shades: red and black.  
  
Something strange happened then, and he wondered if it was a trick of the light at first, as the mirror -healed- itself, smoothing over until it was perfectly solid again, instead of shattered.  
  
"Did.... you see that?" he asked, turning back vaguely, then decided not to ask. Slowly he stretched out his hand, touching the mirror. To his surprise, his fingers started to slip beneath the surface, and he quickly withdrew them from the cold, almost liquid surface. To his surprise, the mirror-substance clung to his fingers like taffy.  
  
"Have you ever had a dream, kid, that you were so sure was real?" asked Wolverine, ignoring the silvery strands that had slowly started to spread up Scott's fingertips and along his hand. "What if you were unable to wake from that dream? How would you know the difference between the dream world.... and the real world?"  
  
Scott couldn't even begin to think of an answer that that. All he could do was stare at his hand as the icy-cold silver drifted upwards, spreading faster now, along his skin. He could almost see his own warped reflection in the stuff spreading along his hand.  
  
"It's cold...."  
  
"It's going into replication," stated Rogue from her monitor. Scott couldn't tell if that was a good thing or bad thing, so he assumed the second and started to panic.  
  
"Sunspot?"  
  
"Nothin' yet."  
  
Wolverine growled, reaching into his jacket and pulling out a cell phone and dialing rapidly.  
  
"Beast, we're going to need that signal soon, and I mean -now-"  
  
"I got a fibrillation!" shouted Rogue in anger, even as the stuff started to spread across Scott's chest and up his body, freezing his limbs in place, making it harder for him to breath.  
  
"Sunspot?!"  
  
"Targetting.... almost there...."  
  
"He's going into arrest!" said Rogue as her monitor burst out into short, but painfully loud alarms.  
  
"Lock! I got him!" shouted Sunspot triumphantly.  
  
"Now, Beast, now!"  
  
Scott screamed, as the stuff completely overtook him and all he could see was a rapidly dimming silver and hear the sounds of a high-pitched electronic scream. Nothing made sense, his bodies senses simply refused to register anything going on to him anymore, so his body shut down and tuned out as he was sucked down into the darkness. 


	7. Chapter Six: Welcome to the Real World

Chapter Six: Welcome to the Real World  
  
Senses returned gradually.  
  
The first was, unfortunately, taste.  
  
Thick liquid pressed in all about Scott, tasting strongly of blood and a great number of unidentifables he would rather be happy if he never knew what they were. Grimacing he struggled towards the air towards the light. Nothing made sense.  
  
Scott finally emerged from his gelatin cocoon, immediately spewing out the thick black tubes that clogged his throat and nose, gasping for breath, his eyes still closed. Despite the many different sensations plaguing his body he couldn't feel the reassuring cool metal of his sunglasses on his face, so he decided best to avoid further damage.  
  
Coughing up the last of the thick, viscous fluid from his mouth, Scott started to move his hands to the back of his head and remove the next offending piece of unwanted technology, but his hands freeze as he realizes, to his horror, its inbedded... right into his skull.  
  
Suddenly he could hear movement, the air whirring around him, like a helicopter. Glancing upwards and praying he would miss he opened his eyes for a fraction of a second to see what lay before him.  
  
He couldn't believe his eyes.  
  
Literally. Because for the first time in his life, everything was in -color-. Beyond that, no energy lanced from his eyes.  
  
All around lay great sleeper tubes, filled with fluid and the bodies of others like himself, each connected the way he was, all asleep apparently. Only he was up. They stretched on for miles, in any direction, up and down, as far as he could see before he clapped his eyes shut again. He didn't understand what had happened, but didn't trust it either. He also saw, to his horror, a great bug-like machine dropping down to hover alongside him.  
  
The machine dropped an arm and grabbed Scott by the neck, despite his struggles and grabbed the back of his head, wrenching forcefully the cable from the back of his head, as well as the other, smaller ones throughout his body, making Scott scream in agony as they were all ripped from his body, leaving him naked and exposed. Then, to his astonishment, the machine let him go...  
  
...and the world dropped out from underneath him...  
  
Scott could not see where he was going, only feel... it felt almost like a waterslide, but this was by no means enjoyable as he dropped down a long dark shoot and out into a pool of water. Great, he thought, I'm at the waterworld from hell. From above came again the sound of whirring engines, softer than a helicopter, he now noticed. Quieter and somehow more powerful.  
  
Another machine arm had dropped down to grab Scott and fish him out of the water like a prize trout, but by this point he was too tired to care as he was hauled, bare as the day he was born, towards the hovering, and into... some... strange place.  
  
Rogue was there, he could tell. And Wolverine. Long years blind had made his other senses sharper than normal. He recognized Wolverine's quick, heavy step... Rogue's soft, sweet scent...  
  
He felt Wolverine's hand on his shoulder, and could almost sense the man smiling down at him as he said...  
  
"Welcome... to the real world."  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
"We've done it. We've found him."  
  
"Ah hope ya'll're right."  
  
"I don't have to hope. I know it." 


	8. Chapter Seven: What is Real?

Chapter Seven: What is Real?  
  
Scott's vision was restored slowly, blinking his eyes, but his vision was... different somehow... clearer, brighter. And then with a start he realized he could see in color again. The reddish haze that had obscured his vision since he was eight... since the accident... was gone.  
  
Everything was so bright though, his eyes hurt, and he couldn't keep them open for long. And his entire body tingled strangely. Risking a brief glance around, he saw he lay in a medical center of some sort, his entire body was riddled with dozen of acupuncture needles wired to all manner of strange devices. Like the weird computers are Wolverine's run-down hotel.  
  
"He still needs a lot of work," said a great, furry blue creature standing to one side. Scott turned his head, blinking, trying to gain focus. When he did he was shocked. He'd heard of physical mutants before, but nothing like this.  
  
The man was a great beast, blue-furred from head to toe, with elongated arms and shortened legs that made him look like a great ape. Despite this, he noticed, he had the look of a world-weary professor. He wore a pair of ripped shorts and, oddly enough, some glasses that seemed out of place on his face. Standing next to him was Wolverine.  
  
"What are you doing?" asked Scott quietly.  
  
"Your muscles have atrophied in that fish tank you were stuck in. We're rebuilding them with a retro-virus... it carries my healing factor."  
  
"Why do my eyes hurt?"  
  
"You've never used 'em before, bub," said Wolverine, giving Scott a very gentle pat on the shoulder as he left. "Sit tight kid, the answers are coming."  
  
Scott faded into unconsciousness, dimly aware of the passage of time as the needles were slowly removed and his body was restored to his normal wiry build. Then the darkness faded, and he woke up in a small room, likely his own. All the furnishings of home... bed, sink, mirror...  
  
Scott checked his reflection in the mirror, wincing a little as he saw his bald head, devoid of almost all hair. He looked worse than his philosophy professor, Xavier. Still, he could see himself again... could see without the reddish haze of his sunglasses in the way of his vision, could see his own... blue... eyes, staring back at him in the mirror.  
  
But it felt so alien, he thought... and then a shiver ran down his spine as he realized something else... verry... verrrry cautiously stretching his fingers back along the back of his head...  
  
Just then the door clinked, as it shifted and slid open, revealing Wolverine, and Scott got a good look at him. He was decidedly different from before, when they'd met in the run down hotel. There he had seemed in control, powerful, precise. Here he seemed more... normal. He was dressed in faded a gray tank top and black drawstring trousers.  
  
"Wolverine... what's... what's happening to me... what is this place?" asked Scott hesitantly.  
  
"More important than what, is when..."  
  
"When?"  
  
"You believe the year is 2002... when in fact its closer to 2202. 'fraid I can't tell you more than that because we honestly don't have a clue. Now come on... got somethin' to show you," he added, offering Scott a hand up.  
  
Scott reluctantly took and followed Wolverine through the confines of the strange place he was in, seeming a mix of futuristic and more primitive technology, like it'd been put together at a junk yard. Still, appearances can be deceiving.  
  
"This is my ship. The SR-77 Blackbird. It's a hovercraft. Small, like a submarine, fast and stealthy, armed with just about anything we can find really, from here we broadcast our signal to hack into the Matrix," said Wolverine as they walked along and finally came to a stop at what looked like the heart of the ship, surrounded by computers and, strangely enough, some chairs. Everyone he'd seen back in the run down hotel was here, as well as the blue ape and some others he didn't recognize.  
  
"Allow me to make introductions all around... you know Rogue," he said, indicating the southern girl, who nodded and smiled at Scott. "Sunspot, Magma, and Spyke," he said indicating the three who'd been at the hotel. "Iceman," he added, indicating a brown-haired boy sitting to one side. "Our operator Beast, and his assistant Nightcrawler," he said, indicating the blue ape-man and his student, who dangled from one of the pipes above and gave Scott an upside-down wave.  
  
Nightcrawler looked much like Beast, blue furred from head-to-toe, but there the resemblence ended. Nightcrawler was much smaller, more slender, with two digits per limb and a tail sticking from his hindquarters. His yellow-gold eyes and his sharp fangs gave him a near-demonic appearance, but he smiled at Scott reassuringly, like he was some over-eager freshmen back at College.  
  
"The little one behind you is Multiple," he added as Scott glanced back, spotting a tiny little boy huddling underneath him, shivering in the cold but putting on a brave face and smiling. He couldn't have been more than twelve.  
  
"Cyclops... you wanted... to know what the Matrix is..." said Wolverine, drawing Scott over to one of the chairs and coaxing him to lay down on it, which he did with some reluctance, glancing at the others around him.  
  
"Now relax... this may feel a bit weird..." Wolverine added.  
  
Suddenly a cable was slipped into the back of Scott's head, into the slot right in the back, just like it had been back in the tank of goo where he'd awoken. Instinctively his shoulders bunched up and his face contorted into a rictus of pain.  
  
Click.  
  
All the pain vanished. Scott reopened his eyes, standing on a flat field of iron-gray, tinted with red, stretching in every direction, up and down, all directions the same. Stranger than that, he realized his sunglasses were back on his face.  
  
"Welcome to the Construct," came a voice behind him. Scott whirled around and there, standing as casually as if he'd been there all along, was Wolverine. The same Wolverine he'd met in the run down hotel earlier, back in his, dressed in black with the sunglasses suspended over his eyes.  
  
"It is our loading program. We can load anything here... clothes... weapons... training exercises... anything we need," he added, smirking just a little at the last one. Wolverine stepped past Scott and he turned, seeing a chair and large-screen television had also formed in the bleak nothingness of the strange world while he'd had his back turned to face Wolverine.  
  
"Sit down," ordered Wolverine. Scott decided to remain standing, while Wolverine sat.  
  
"This... is a computer program?" asked Scott curiously.  
  
"So difficult to believe? Your clothes are different, the plug in the back of your head is gone. Your hair's even grown back... even your sunglasses have returned... try taking them off..."  
  
Scott starts to comply, but Wolverine stops him with a hand.  
  
"Ah... facing in a different direction."  
  
Scott took off his glasses and the red-energy lanced from his eyes again, once again no longer under his control. Things were starting to make less and less sense. He reluctantly put back on his sunglasses and turned to face Wolverine, determined to get some answers. "Right now you're what we call residual self image. The mental projection of your electronic self."  
  
"This... this isn't real, is it?" Scott asked.  
  
"What is real? How do you define real? If you're talking about what you can feel, taste, smell, see, then real is simply electrical signals interpreted by your brain," replied Wolverine, reaching down to pick up a remote and aiming at the television, clicking it on. Images started to blur past, showing New York, Scott's home, glimpses of his college, his home, the nightclub he'd met Rogue, and more.  
  
"This is the world you knew. The world that existed at the end of the 20th Century. IT exists now only as part of a neural-interactive simulation... that we call the Matrix. You've been, quite literally... living in a dreamworld, bub. This... is the real world..." he added with another click of the remote. The television showed another, darker image. A ruined cityscape, blackened by fire or... worse... nuclear explosions.  
  
"Welcome... to the desert of the real," intoned Wolverine ominously, as Scott's vision blurred and changed, and he found the two of them now standing in the very center of that ruined city, with the chairs, as if they'd suddenly been sucked into the television... which was still before him... but... Scott's head started to hurt from processing all this information. He desperately clung to the back of his chair, trying to get his bearings.  
  
"We only have bits and pieces of information, what we know for certain is that, some point in the not-to-distant future of the twenty-first century, mankind and mutants were united in celebration. We'd marveled at what had been created. We'd given birth... to A.I."  
  
"A.I.?" asked Scott, grateful there was something he finally understood. "Artificial Intelligence?"  
  
"Yes... a singular consciousness that spawned an entire race of machines. Must've been one helluva party. We... don't know who struck first... them or us... but we do know it was we who scorched the skies," he said, pointing upwards, as two pairs of sunglasses reflected the dark, cloudy heavens.  
  
"We figured that without such a power source, they could be overpowered and crushed... humanity miscalculated. Badly," he added ominously. Then he smirked. "Throughout human history, we've been dependant on machines to survive... Fate, if you believe in that, is not without a sense of irony."  
  
Wolverine clicked on the television again and Scott watched new images form, a tiny baby human... a fetus, still in the womb... no, not in the womb he realized as it zoomed out... in some sort of container... like the ones he'd seen... like the one he'd been in. He shuddered at the thought as Wolverine continued to talk.  
  
"The machines discovered a new form of energy. The human body produces more bioelectricity than a 120-volt battery and over 25,000 B.T.U.'s of body heat. And many mutants produce far more than that," he added, his voice growing surprisingly soft at the last point, and Scott could swear his voice almost cracked. "There are whole fields of them, Cyclops... harvested for energy."  
  
Wolverine angrily clicked off the television, and when Scott blinked he was back in the slate-gray nothingness he'd found himself in. Only Wolverine remained.  
  
"What is the Matrix...? Control," said Wolverine as he stood, his expression grim. "The Matrix is a computer-generated dreamworld build to keep us under control... in order to change a human being... into this," he added, holding up a coppertop battery. It would've seemed ludicrious if it wasn't the truth. Scott shuddered, nearly doubling over, his mouth tasting like ash.  
  
"No..." he finally managed to hiss out.  
  
"'told you it wouldn't be easy, Cyke. I just told you it'd be the truth..."  
  
"Shut up!" yelled Scott, barely letting Wolverine finish as he stumbled backwards, searching for an exit in the nothingness around him again. "Let me out! Let me out, I want out!!"  
  
Click.  
  
Scott found himself back in the chair, the device still in the back of his head as Wolverine moved to unstrap him and remove it, Rogue standing over him, trying to offer comfort... how could he be comforted after learning something like that?!  
  
Scott lurched out his chair, away from everyone, who watched him with different degrees of concern, amusement and faint disinterest.  
  
"Easy, Scott, Easy, ah'm here," said Rogue, reaching out a bare hand to grab Scott's shoulder, but he shrugged her off.  
  
"Don't touch me! Get away from me!" he said, his world spinning around him, he couldn't focus as he sunk to his knees. "I don't believe this..."  
  
"He's going to pop," commented Spyke casually from where he watched in the corner.  
  
"Breath, Cyke, just breath!" said Wolverine, and Scott, having little choice to disobey that tone of voice, obliged, vomiting all over the floor of the Blackbird and losing consciousness. 


	9. Chapter Eight: Training

Chapter Eight: Training  
  
Scott blinked his eyes open, half-hoping it had all been a dream.  
  
But his vision was clear and colored. He'd always wanted to have control over his abilities... but not like this. He started to lift himself up, but he could sense Wolverine's presence behind him.  
  
"I... I can't go back, can I?" he asked softly.  
  
"No..." replied Wolverine. "But tell me this... if you could... would you really want to?" Wolverine's expression softened a little as he continued. "I'm sorry kid. Really. Its never easy on anyone, 'specially at your age when you think you've figured out everything about life. We have a rule among us that we don't take people over a certain age... the mind has trouble letting go. I broke that rule tonight... because I had to."  
  
Scott shifted, sitting partially upright. It seemed strange to see Wolverine suddenly seem so... sullen, so quiet. It was a completely different side of his personality.  
  
"When the Matrix was first formed there was a man born inside that had the ability to change what he wanted, to remake the Matrix as he saw fit. It was this man that freed the first of us, and taught us the truth. As long as the Matrix exists... humans and mutants will never be truly free. When he died, Destiny prophesized his returned, and envision that his coming would herald the end of the Matrix, and end to the war. I did what I did... because I feel the search for that man is over."  
  
Scott could not think of any response to that.  
  
"Sleep now. You're going to need it kid," he said as he stood and made his way to the door.  
  
"For what?"  
  
"Your training," was the only reply as Wolverine exited, leaving Scott alone with his thoughts.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Scott did not sleep that night.  
  
His mind was entirely too troubled, and despite the strain of staying up, even after all this, he couldn't. He'd been sleeping for years, in those infernal machines, he figured he could afford to stay awake and regain some lost time.  
  
Finally in the morning their came a knock on the door, and as Scott watched the door swung open and the small blue boy... Nightcrawler, he'd been identified as, walked in.  
  
"Guten Morgen!" he said a cheery voice. "Did you sleep vell?"  
  
"Not in the last," replied Scott truthfully.  
  
"You vill tonight, meine freund. I guarantee it. Kurt Wagner," he added, clasping Scott's hand in his and giving a hearty shake. Kurt turned to walk down the corridors and Scott followed, noticing something odd about the blue demon-boy (apart from the obvious).  
  
"Hey... you don't... have a..."  
  
"Hole in my head?" asked Kurt with a snicker. He loved making that joke. "Nah... Hank and I are both 100 percent pure, old-fashioned, home-grown mutants, born right here, in ze real world. Genuine children of Zion," he added in an awed tone.  
  
"Zion?"  
  
"If zis var vas over tomorrow, Zion is vhere the party would be, meine freund," he added, climbing up along the side of the wall like a monkey as Scott climbed up a ladder to follow him.  
  
"So it's a city?"  
  
"The last city belonging to the human and mutant alliance. Only place ve've got left, actually..." he added, suddenly growing morose.  
  
"Where is it?"  
  
"Deep underground, near ze earth's core, vhere its still hot... Fraulein Amara loves it down zere," he added with a smirk. "Hell, you live long enough, you may even get to see it."  
  
"I look forward to it," replied Scott.  
  
"I have to tell you, I'm really excited to see vhat you're capable of... I mean if Wolverine is right and all. Ve've got lots to do, meine freund... lets get to vork!" he added as he settled down by the computer screens, helping Scott lay down one more on the flat chairs and get hooked up to the Construct Wolverine has shown him the other day. Kurt kept flipping through CD's, searching for the one he wanted.  
  
"Hmmm... I know I put it here somevhere... aha!"  
  
"What is it?" asked Scott, curious.  
  
"Meine music," was the reply as Kurt tossed in a CD and turned it on. Stone Cypher music immediately began to flow out of a pair of headphones the fuzzy blue man fitted into his pointed ears as he once more started to search through the CD's coming up with a few more. "Vell let's see... ve're supposed to load all these operating programs first, but this is some majorly boring stuff... vhy not something a little more interesting?" he asked, giving Scott a smirk that truly made him look demonic as he dramatically held up the CD in question.  
  
"Danger Room - Combat training," he said, placing the CD into the computer and fiddling with some controls, using his own keyboard (specifically designed for his own two-digit, extra-thick fingers) (Hank had something similar to the side) and tapped the enter key with finesse.  
  
Instantly something hit Scott, electronic impulses flowed into his brain... he couldn't think... couldn't act... as information flooded his head... and then in mere seconds it was over. It was amazing.  
  
"Holy shit," he swore, unable to think of a better way to phrase it.  
  
"Heh... thought you'd like that... more?"  
  
"Hell yes..." replied Scott.  
  
Training continued from there.  
  
Scott's mind and body were imprinted, over the course of many hours, with the training of almost every martial arts form known to man, and some he'd never even heard of. Jujitsu, Ken Po, Karate, Aikido, Drunken Boxing, and more. Scott wished he'd had something like this when he was cramming for his Physic midterms. It would've made college that much quicker.  
  
Wolverine walked in much later, as Kurt was starting to slump over the keyboard and was blinking his large yellow eyes to keep awake.  
  
"How's the kid doing?"  
  
"Ten hours straight. The guy's a machine," replied Kurt, his tail flicking behind him as Wolverine dropped over and Scott finished his most recent of training programs.  
  
"I know Kung Fu..." he said breathlessly.  
  
"Show me," replied Wolverine.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
"This is the Danger Room - Sparring Program," replied Wolverine as he gestured at the impressive gray walls that now surrounded the area in a great circle around Scott and Wolverine's residual self images. They were both dressed in karate gi's, Wolverine's the black of a master and Scott's the white of a learned. Scott's glasses were firmly in place once more, keeping his beams under control.  
  
"Similar to the reality of the Matrix. It has the same basic rules... rules like gravity. What you have to learn is that these rules are no different than that of a computer. Rules can be bent. Some can even be broken... understand?"  
  
Scott nodded reluctantly.  
  
"The hit me..." said Wolverine with a smirk as he crosses his arms in front of him and swung them open in a wide arc. Three, very sharp, very long wicked metal blades sprung out of each fist, right between his knuckles. Scott had little doubt they would do serious damage if he let them get anywhere near him. He didn't intend to let that happen. "If you can," added Wolverine with a grin.  
  
The martial arts battle to end all martial arts battles had begun.  
  
Scott came in fast, swinging his fists and feet in a flurry of attacks, determined to take Wolverine down fast, before he could counter-attack. But the Wolverine had obviously earned his codename, and came back just as fast and hard, blocking every one of Scott's attacks and countering with his own, leaving Scott back-flipping his way out of the reach of his deadly blades. He removed his glasses, taking a few brief shots at Wolverine who dodged with incredible grace and fluidity, barely seeming to move as he dodges the blasts like they were nothing, so Scott replaced his glasses and went back to his original tactics, searching for an opening to exploit.  
  
Scott remembered then what he said about the rules being broken and decided to test out the theory, jumping up high and aiming a few kicks at Wolverine's head, each of which was blocked, then a spinning kick, but he miscalculated and landed hard on the ground.  
  
"Good," said Wolverine, sheathing his claws and folding his arms. "Adaptation... creativity... but your weakness ain't in your technique..."  
  
Scott didn't give him a chance to finish, he just launched himself at Wolverine, hoping to catch him off guard.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
"Guys, guys!" Jamie hollered as he slid down the ladder and ran to find the others in the mess hall.  
  
"Cyclops is sparring Wolverine, come quick!" he yelled as he burst through the door. The others: Amara, Roberto, Evan and Rogue, quickly dropped their bowls and followed the squirt back to the main deck.  
  
"Why aren't you there watching it then?" asked Rogue as they jogged along.  
  
"I am," he replied, turning around to face her. As he did he bumped into a sharp turn and hit the ground hard, falling into three identical duplicate, all rubbing their head in the same spot.  
  
Rogue rolled her eyes as she went past them, and saw, as she expected, another duplicate already watching the spar with Kurt on the main deck.  
  
They'd all arrived just as the fight had started to heat up.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Scott launched a flurry of attacks at Wolverine again, using his now vast knowledge of the martial arts against him, trying tricks and little maneuvers that would've made most people fall on the ground with their limbs tied, but for some reason Wolverine counted every move, and barely seemed to be breaking into a sweat. Angered and more than a little frustrated, Scott launched himself up one of the gray walls and backflipped over Wolverine to catch him by surprised, but his fist (claws thankfully sheathed) slammed into his gut and sent him flying across the room. Grimacing, he tried to regain his breath, it felt like Wolverine's fist had been a steel cannonball shot into his gut.  
  
"How'd I beat ya?" asked Wolverine, standing their casually, arms crossed.  
  
"You're... you're too fast..." came Scott's reply when he could breath again.  
  
"Do you think my being fast, or strong, has anything to do with my muscles... in this world?" he asked, indicating the semi-real space of the Danger Room. "Think that's air your breathing?" he asked, and Scott paused, realizing his implications. He wasn't breathing... he wasn't even there. His power was based purely on his mind.  
  
"Again," replied Wolverine, unaware that in the real world he and his opponent had acquired a large audience. Scott launched himself at Wolverine, and the two of them began to battle in earnest. Punches, Kicks, Elbow Jabs, Knee Strikes, even an attempted Headbutt (an action Scott quickly regretted letting himself get hit by when he found out Wolverine's skull also felt like a hunk of iron) until Wolverine grabbed Scott's next two punch attacks and drew him in.  
  
"Come on, quit trying to hit me and hit me!" he yelled angrily, tossing Scott back. Scott, very angry then, moved like a blur, his fists moving so fast it seemed like he'd sprouted additional limbs, and now it was Wolverine being pushed to his limits just to hold him off, until one fist flew out of no where and stopped inches from his unprotected neck. He'd have had no way to defend against that, and his neck was the only part of his body that was unprotected by his adamantium-laced skeleton.  
  
"I know what you're trying to do..." said Scott softly, panting for breath as he lowered his fist.  
  
"I'm just trying to show you the way, Cyke," he said with a smirk. "But I can only show you the door... you're the one who's gotta walk through it. Nightcrawler..." he said, now addressing the empty air. "Load the jump program."  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Kurt reluctantly complied as the others hung over his shoulders, watching with various degrees of boredom, anticipation and concern. Well, only Rogue seemed to be showing any concern.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
The walls of the Construct faded away, replaced by a cityscape that seemed much like the world he'd known... the world he now knew was the Matrix. The fake world. But what startled him most was where they were located... on the rooftop.  
  
"You have to let it all go, Cyke," said Wolverine, now in his customary dark clothes and glasses. Scott realized his own gi had vanished as well, replaced with his t-shirt and jeans. "Fear, doubt, disbelief. Free... your... mind..." he said. Then with a smirk he took off and leapt off the edge of the building, landing on the end of the one opposite it... over six street lanes away. Scott could, of course, come up with only one intelligent response to witnessing that.  
  
"Whoa."  
  
Scott stepped forward, glancing down at the street waaaaaay below him, then back over at Wolverine, who waited for him.  
  
"Oookie-dokie... free my mind... right. Noooo problem," he added sarcastically.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
"What if he makes it?" asked Jamie excitedly.  
  
"No von has ever made zere first jump," replied Kurt from his seat, though he didn't sound one hundred percent convinced.  
  
"I know, but... what if he does?"  
  
"He won't," replied Amara with a great deal of certainty.  
  
"Come on," whispered Rogue softly. She and the others regarded the screen with transfixed expressions.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
"Alright, free my mind..." mutter Scott, mentally psyching himself up for what he truly felt was completely insane... still... he's seen stranger things all day. Hell, next they'd be telling him he could fly. He made a running start and leapt over the building, making it perhaps a dozen feet before he started to plummet to the ground below and beginning his thousand- story decent to the ground floor... express route.  
  
Thankfully the ground cushioned his impact by molding like jello around his frame, bouncing him back up briefly before he landed flat on his back with a groan. Obviously the "jump program" had safeties installed so he wouldn't get killed... but still, it hurt like hell. He swore he chipped one of his teeth.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
"What does that mean?" asked Jamie, disappointed but still excited.  
  
"It doesn't mean anything," replied Roberto.  
  
"Everybody falls the first time... isn't that right Rogue?" asked Evan with a smirk and something close to a leer.  
  
Rogue didn't reply, just made her way over to Scott and Wolverine as they were unplugged from the Construct and brought back to reality. Scott grimaced as he spat out some blood, looking at Wolverine curiously.  
  
"I thought you said it wasn't real," he asked, puzzled.  
  
"Your mind makes it real," replied Wolverine, stretching out his limbs where Scott had landed some good punches during their spar. Scott took a few seconds to process that information.  
  
"If you're killed in the Matrix... you die here?"  
  
"Body can't survive with the mind," replied Wolverine. "That's enough training for the day... get some rest. All of you," he added to the others, who started to drift away, Hank taking over for Kurt as he manned the ship for the night. 


	10. Chapter Nine: Twists and Turns

Chapter Nine: Twists and Turns  
  
Much later that night Rogue drifted into Scott's room as he lay sleeping, dropping off some dinner he'd missed during his training on the table alongside him, pausing to admire how innocent he looked sleeping before she slid out and shut the door.  
  
"I don't remember you ever making me dinner," came a voice, cause Rogue to jump as she noticed Evan leaning against the nearby, smiling in a condescending manner. When Rogue did not reply Evan wandered over towards her, still talking. "There's something about him, isn't there?"  
  
"Don't tell me you're a believer now," replied Rogue.  
  
"Just wondering. If Wolverine is so sure its him... why haven't we taken him to see Destiny?" he asked.  
  
"Wolverine will take him when's ready," replied Rogue without much conviction. Evan's words echoed her own questions. She moved past him and back towards her own room for the night.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Scott and Wolverine wandered the streets of Bayville's crowded downtown streets as the latter explained to the former yet more of the rules concerning his new perception of reality.  
  
"The Matrix is a system, Cyke. And that system is our enemy. When you look around you see, fellow students, businessmen, lawyers, teachers, cops, the very minds of the people we are trying to save. But these people are still a part of the system and that makes them the enemy. You have to understand most of these people aren't ready yet to be unplugged. They're so hopelessly dependent on this system they're going to fight to protect it," he continued as Scott and he walked on.  
  
One person caught Scott's eye, out of place as she was in a bright-red (the color he saw most clearly through his sunglasses) dress with equally, if not more bright, red hair and pretty features who smirked and gave a wink in his direction.  
  
"Were you listen, Cyke?" asked Wolverine, drawing Scott's attention back as the woman in red slipped out of his vision, somewhere behind him. "Or were you looking at the woman in the red dress?"  
  
"I..."  
  
"Look again."  
  
Scott turned to look, and found himself staring down the barrel of a gun. Instinctively he ducked.  
  
"Freeze it," said Wolverine, oddly calm.  
  
Instantly the world froze in motion, like someone had hit a gigantic pause button. Scott slowly stood to his feet, watching the man who'd damn near blown his head off, and vaguely recognized him as the agent who'd lead the trio of them after him the day this entire mess had all started. Something dawned on Scott.  
  
"This... this isn't the Matrix?"  
  
"Nope... its another training program. Designed to teach you a very important lesson. If you're not one of us... you're one of them," he indicated the still-frozen agent, gun poisoned, though Scott had moved out of its way.  
  
"What are they?" asked Scott cautiously, not entirely sure if he wanted to know the answer. His stomach instinctively tightened in fear as he regarded the sinister agent.  
  
"Sentient programs. They can move in and out of any software still hardwired to their system. That means that anyone we haven't unplugged is potentially an agent. Inside the Matrix, they are everyone... and they are no one...  
  
We've survived by hiding from them," continued Wolverine. "By running from them. But they are the gatekeepers. They're guarding all the doors, they're holding all the keys, which means sooner or later, someone... is going to have to fight them."  
  
"Someone?" asked Scott, half accusingly, half questioningly. He sensed he knew where this was going. All this talk about him being a reincarnated savior.  
  
"I won't lie to you kid, it won't be easy. Every single man or woman, mutant or otherwise, who has stood their ground against an agent has died. But where they have failed... you will succeed," he added.  
  
"Why?"  
  
"I've seen an agent punch through solid concrete. Men have emptied entire clips at them and hit nothing but air. Yet their speed and strength and other powers come from a world based on rules. As such... they will never be as strong or as fast as you."  
  
"What're you saying," asked Scott as he considered Wolverine's statement. "That I can dodge bullets?"  
  
"No Scott," replied Wolverine gently, with a smile. "I'm saying when you're ready... you won't have to."  
  
Wolverine's cell phone chose that moment to ring and he flipped out out, listening. Hank's worried voice came over the other end.  
  
"We have trouble."  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Scott and Wolverine quickly slipped back into reality where everyone was at their stations, watching the screens as the Blackbird maneuvered through the dark tunnel ways it always did, much faster than usual, or so it seemed to Scott.  
  
"Damn... the Sentinels are moving in quickly," said Hank as Wolverine stood behind him and Scott ducked over near Rogue, out of the way.  
  
"Sentinels?" asked Scott quietly.  
  
"Machines, designed specifically for only one thang..." she said.  
  
"Search and destroy," added Kurt to his other side, hanging upside down as he watched the front viewport of the ship. Hank and Wolverine maneuvered the ship down in an abandoned part of the tunnels and shut off its power, making it blend into the surface.  
  
"Everything set?" asked Wolverine, his voice barely above a whisper.  
  
"Power off-line, E.M.P. armed and ready," replied Hank as his hands curled around a red switch, ready to flip it in a moments notice.  
  
"E.M.P.?" asked Scott, his mind vaguely recalling the term, but not able to place it.  
  
"Electro-magnetic pulse," replied Rogue softly. "It disables any electrical system caught in the blast radius. It's the only weapon we have against the machines."  
  
Everyone froze and became dead silent as the sentinel came into view in the front viewscreen of the Blackbird. A hulking, humanoid construct that flew on some sort of strange hover engines just like the Blackbird, moving about with cold precision, his glowing golden eyes the only features on its otherwise blank face. It paused once as its gaze swept over them, but eventually passed them by and they all breathed a sigh of relief.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Later that night Scott was stricken by incredible insomnia, so he wandered off to find what he could to help sleep. He spotted Evan, or Spyke as he was known, lounging at the front, no doubt on duty. He headed up near him, causing Evan to start.  
  
"Scott! You jeez... you scared the hell out of me!" he shouted as he shifted position.  
  
"Sorry," offered Scott half-heartedly.  
  
"Nah it's alright," replied the dark, blonde-haired boy as he sipped his drink. Scott looked past him, for the first time seeing what Kurt and Hank watched as he and the others went in and out of the training programs.  
  
"Is that...?"  
  
"The Matrix? That's it in a nutshell," replied Evan, staring at the flow lines of green code past the computer screens, all in strange symbols, like binary code, almost.  
  
"Does it always look encoded?" asked Scott curiously.  
  
"Has to be. The image translators sort of work for the construct programs, but there's just waaay to much information to decode the Matrix. You get used it though. I don't even see the code, really... all I see is... blonde, brunette, red-head..."  
  
Scott smirked and Evan snickered, and for a moment they both relaxed, forgetting all about the war, once again college students snickering over girls. Evan completed the image by passing a mysterious liquid towards Scott.  
  
"Drink?" he asked. Scott shrugged, figured it wouldn't be poison so he figured could tolerate it. He immediately realized he couldn't when the taste finally hit his taste buds and he coughed. Evan smirked and patted him on the back.  
  
"Good isn't it? Wolverine's own special blend... good for only two things. Killin' brain cells and clearin' out motor engines. Hey..." he added, giving Scott a nudge. "I know what you're thinkin'... 'cause right now I'm thinkin' the same thing. Why oh why, didn't I take the blue pill, eh?"  
  
Scott reluctantly nodded. He did have a great deal on his mind about the course his new life was headed.  
  
"Can I ask you something? Did he happen to tell you why he did it? Why you're here?"  
  
"... yeah," replied Scott, his mind still reeling from it all.  
  
"Man... so you're here to save the world," replied the dark kid with a chuckle. "I got a little secret for you. You see an agent, you do what we do. Run. You run your ass off."  
  
"Thanks for the drink," replied Scott as he took another sip and handed the cup back to Evan, who watched him as he retreated back to his room.  
  
Thus, with his back turned, Scott didn't noticed the vengeful look in his eyes.  
  
"Sweet dreams." 


	11. Chapter Ten: Betrayal

Chapter Ten: Betrayal  
  
Later that very night, in the Matrix, at an expensive restaurant...  
  
Evan sat, holding a fork, on the end of which rested a chunk of his t-bone steak, and he regarded it thoughtfully, as if all the mysteries of the universe lay within it.  
  
"So, do we have a deal, Mr. Daniels?" asked his dining compatriot, who sat across from him.  
  
"You know..." replied Evan, ignoring him for the moment as he regarded his meal. "I know this steak doesn't really exist. I know that when I put it in my mouth, the Matrix is telling my brain that it is... juicy... and delicious. After nine years, do you know what I've realized?"  
  
Evan put the meat in his mouth, sighing softly as he rolled his eyes, the taste ashes in his mouth. He knew it wasn't real... nothing was. But it was better than reality.  
  
"Ignorance is bliss."  
  
"Then we have a deal?" asked Agent Alvers.  
  
"I don't want to remember nothing... nothing, understood?" replied Evan. "And I want to be rich... and famous. Like Tony Hawk, maybe..."  
  
"Whatever you want," replied Agent Alvers, watching Evan noisily drink his wine. Honestly, these humans were filthy.  
  
"All right," replied Evan with a smirk, swirling his wine as he plopped his feet up on the chair next to his. "You get my body back in a power plant, reinsert me into the Matrix, I'll get you what you want."  
  
"Access codes to the Zion mainframe..."  
  
"No, I told you I don't know them," replied Evan. "I can get you the man who does."  
  
"Wolverine," replied Agent Alvers with a smirk.  
  
"Yeah... Wolverine..." replied Evan, with a similar expression.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
"Alright kids, gather round, time for the breakfast of champions," announced Hank, handing out the bowls to all those in attendance, which was the entire crew of the Blackbird, sans Wolverine, who was on the upper decks.  
  
"If you close your eyes," said Bobby as he dug into his meal. "Almost feels like you're eating runny eggs."  
  
"Or a bowl of snot," replied Roberto as he reluctantly devoured his own meal. Scott could only nudge his meal and wonder if it was worth it.  
  
"Kinda reminds me of... Tastee Wheat... you ever try that?" Bobby asked, directing his question at Scott. Unnoticed by him, a thin blue tail snaked under his arm and slid his bowl over towards what had been dubbed the "blue vacuum cleaner", who'd eat anything that wasn't nailed down or on fire.  
  
"No but technically neither did you," replied Amara with a smirk as she watched Bobby's meal get stolen.  
  
"Exactly my point, because you have to wonder... how do the machines know what Tastee Wheat really tasted like? Maybe they got it wrong... maybe what I think Tastee Wheat tasted like actually tasted like oatmeal... or tuna fish," continued Bobby, blissfully unaware of his meal's fate. "It makes you wonder about a lot of things. Take chicken for example. Maybe they couldn't figure out what to make chicken taste like which is why chicken tastes like everything..."  
  
"Shut up Bobby," said Roberto, finally getting sick of his tirade.  
  
"It's a single cell protein combined with synthetic aminos, vitamins and minerals," replied Hank as he sat down and began his own meal.  
  
"Everything your bodies needs!" added Kurt as he, almost triumphantly, finished his meal and hopped up, making a break before Bobby realized what had happened to his meal and decided to ice him. Bobby, with a sudden smirk, slid over towards Scott.  
  
"So I understand you've run through the Agent training program... you know, I wrote that program."  
  
"Here it comes," said Roberto from the sidelines.  
  
"So what did you think of her?"  
  
"Who?" asked Scott, glancing over at the boy next to him.  
  
"The woman in the red dress," replied Bobby with a smirk. Scott blushed, glancing briefly at Rogue guiltily, then back before (he hoped) anyone noticed. Fortunately, no one did.  
  
"I designed her," continued on Bobby proudly. "She doesn't talk much... but if you'd like to, I can arrange for a more personalized rendevuez."  
  
"A digital pimp hard at work," said Amara with a smirk.  
  
"Pay no attention to these hypocrites, Scott!" said Bobby angrily. Amara's comment had cut him deeper than he wanted to admit. Mostly because it was coming from her though. "To deny our impulses, is to deny the very thing that makes us human."  
  
Scott pondered Bobby's offer briefly, but thankfully they were all interrupted before he could make a decision by the ship's captain, Wolverine.  
  
"Hank, bring us up to broadcast depth. We're going in. I'm taking Cyke to see her," he said, and everyone quickly departed. Scott bumped into Kurt on the way there, asking who Wolverine meant by "her".  
  
"Destiny," replied Kurt ominously.  
  
Everyone arrived at the main room, and strapped into the many chairs, hooking themselves in with the assistance of Kurt and Hank, who slipped into his seat and began to type, monitoring everything.  
  
"Ladies and Gentlemen, please observe that the no smoking and fasten seat belts sign has been turned on. Please sit back and enjoy your flight," joked the great man-beast as he activated the system and all of the chair's occupants felt an all-too-familiar rush...  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
They rematerialized inside the Matrix, back in the hotel where Scott had first left it. The real one, Scott realized with a shiver. The Agents were here. They were, in a sense, behind enemy lines.  
  
Scott and the others were attired in all manner of black clothes, leather, spandex and latex, as befitting their personal choices, and most sunglasses (Scott didn't have much choice). Amara's sun-bleached white made her stand out, but it was in a fashionable way. Wolverine made his way to the phone in the middle of the room an answered it as it rang.  
  
"We're in."  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Wolverine, Rogue, Cyclops and Spyke headed down to the lowest level and into the alley, sliding into the black limo that lay there from those many nights ago when Scott had been escorted here. As they passed into the alley, Spyke smirked and activated his cellphone, dropping it in the nearby trashcan, when no one was watching.  
  
That would bring them.  
  
"Wait here," said Wolverine, addressing Magma, Sunspot and Iceman. Multiple already lay safely within the building, near the phone-exit in case they needed to make a swift departure.  
  
Spyke slid into the drivers seat, the others into the back and passenger, and they were off to see Destiny. 


	12. Chapter Eleven: The Prophesy

Chapter Eleven: The Prophecy  
  
Their black limo drove along through the streets of downtown Bayville, past the everyday people, past the ordinary buildings. All blissfully unaware of what Scott now knew. He watched through the rolled up, black-tinted windows in awe, hardly able to believe.  
  
"Whoa..." he muttered softly. Rogue, to his side, shifted closer to follow his view.  
  
"What is it?" she asked.  
  
"I used to eat there..." he said, pointing to the Burger Gut Bomb place, a popular lunch spot for the students at Bayville University. Scott was no exception, though he tended to eat alone. "Good fries," he whispered, implications dawning upon him. He'd never gone there, never eaten them, never actually tasted a french fry in his entire life. It had all been the Matrix.  
  
"I have these memories from my life... but none of them really happened... what does that mean?" he asked, turning to regard Rogue, their faces very close to one another. Rogue drew back a little. Though her gift as a mutant was a part of her residual self image, in the Matrix, like Scott, she had no power to control it. Thus, close contact could become dangerous for both of them.  
  
"Tha Matrix cannot tell ya who ya are," she replied softly, answering his question.  
  
"But this Destiny can?" he asked. Despite all Wolverine had been telling him, he remained skeptical. Too often in his life he'd seen hope dangled in front of his sunglasses, only to be snatched away. Now he was hardened against such hoping.  
  
"That's different," replied Rogue with a wistful smile.  
  
"You've seen her?"  
  
"Yeah..."  
  
"She told me..." she started to say but suddenly paused, the breath catching her throat as she could only stare at Scott, her expression something close to fear.  
  
"What?" he asked. Before she could respond the car came to a stop, and Wolverine stepped out.  
  
"We're here Cyke... come with me..."  
  
Scott reluctantly followed Wolverine, leaving Spyke and Rogue in the car, to await their return.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Scott and Wolverine made their way into the building in question, which seemed as unremarkable as the hotel where he'd first met Wolverine. But Scott was quickly learning that looks could be deceiving. In the Matrix more than anywhere else.  
  
The two of them stepped into an elevator and began to ride it up to somewhere near the top floor.  
  
"So this Destiny, she made the original prophesy as well?"  
  
"Yes," replied Wolverine. "She's very old... she's been with us since the beginning."  
  
"The beginning?"  
  
"Of the resistance."  
  
"And she knows what... everything?"  
  
"She would say she knows enough," replied Wolverine, smiling at his reflection in the metallic walls of the elevator as it continued to rise. Scott shifted uneasily.  
  
"And she's never wrong?"  
  
"Try not to think of it in terms of right and wrong, kid," said Wolverine gruffly. "She's a guide. She can help you find the path."  
  
"She helped you?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"What'd she tell you?" he asked, hoping to get more info about this strange person. Rogue wasn't willing to answer... maybe Wolverine was.  
  
"She told me I'd find the One," he replied quietly, as the elevator opened and they walked down the hallway to a rather unremarkable door, no markings, the numbers had been removed for some strange reason. "I told you I could only show you the door," said Wolverine, stepping to one side and motioning Scott forward. "You are the one who has to step through it."  
  
Scott hesitated, his hand inches from the door knob. He thought back to everything then, that he'd learned over the past month or so. His life was a fake, his species was in danger, he was supposedly a savior for the human and mutant races, his life was in danger and the machines were going to destroy them all unless such a savior could be found... if it wasn't him... was it? Not for the first time, Scott wished he had taken the blue pill and lived his life blissfully free of all this, continued his simple life as a college student, graduated and gotten a job, found some girl to settle down with and start a family. Now he was a resistance fighter in a world that wasn't real.  
  
Reluctantly, he touched the knob...  
  
As he did, the door opened of its own accord, and a gray-haired, elderly lady in blue-violet robes stepped out.  
  
"Hello Scott," she said softly, her voice harsh with age. "You're right on time." Scott felt a shiver go down his spine. With further hesitation he entered the apartment room, followed by Wolverine. "Make yourself at home, Wolverine," she said.  
  
"Thank you," replied the Wolverine with a respectful nod as he made his way elsewhere to make himself comfortable.  
  
"Scott... please come with me..." beckoned the old woman. She led him into a family room of sorts, complete with television and a number of toys scattered about the floor. Some small children, all dressed in white, played with them.  
  
"There are the other Potentials," explained the elderly woman as she made her way past Scott towards what appeared to be the kitchen. "You can wait here."  
  
Scott reluctantly did, his red-haze view sweeping over the room, noticing little peculiarities he hadn't prior. Like how one girl with strange purple locks and a small scar under her left eye was juggling some children's blocks... without using her hands. Or another small boy was watching the television, changing the channels... without a remote. His eyes blinked, and it changed.  
  
Scott gaze eventually wandered over to a red-headed child sitting to one side, holding up a spoon in her hands, and as Scott watched it bent and shifted, twirling in a circle then back to its original state. With a smile she handed it to him, and he reluctantly picked it up, regarding it curiously.  
  
"Do not try to bend the spoon, that is impossible," stated the girl quietly, as if she was speaking about the weather. "Instead, only try to realize the truth?"  
  
"What truth?"  
  
"There is no spoon," she replied with a light-hearted smile.  
  
"There is no spoon?" asked Scott, though it was more of a statement.  
  
"Then you will see, it is not the spoon itself that bends, it is only yourself."  
  
"There is no spoon," Scott repeated, staring at the strange utensil in his hands and concentrating. It started to bend...  
  
"Destiny will see you now," came the harsh tone of the old woman, breaking Scott's concentration as he glanced back at her, then back at the little red-headed girl. Smiling, he handed back to her the spoon.  
  
"Thank you," he said with a smile as he stood up and made his way to see Destiny.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Scott was escorted into the kitchen, where he waited by the door for the strange lady who was deep in her cooking, her back currently to Scott.  
  
"Hello?" he asked.  
  
"I know... you're Scott Summers. Be right with you," she said without turning around.  
  
"You're Destiny?"  
  
"Bingo," she replied, then turned to face him. She was short, very small of frame... almost petite, and somewhere between middle-aged and old, though she carried her years well. Her soft brown hair was a little frizzled, and her eyes had the milky-white film of blindness covering them. "Not quite what you were expecting, right? Almost done... smells good, don't they?"  
  
"Yeah," replied Scott without thinking.  
  
"I'd ask you to sit down... but you're not going to anyway... oh and please don't worry about the vase," she continued on, turning back to her cooking.  
  
"What vase?" asked Scott as he turned, the fringe of his jacket catching the vase he'd been warned about, knocking it to the ground where it shattered into a dozen pieces.  
  
"That vase," she replied.  
  
"Oh I'm sorry..."  
  
"I told you not to worry about it," she replied with a smile. "I'll have Jean and Betsy clean it up later..."  
  
"How... how did you know?" he asked quietly.  
  
"Ooooh.... what's really going to bake your noodle later... would you still have knocked it over if I hadn't said anything?" she asked with a smirk, using a short cane to guide herself to the table and sitting down.  
  
Scott's mind was reeling from it all. If this wasn't real... it was one helluva good show.  
  
"So, what do you think? You think you're the one?" she asked softly.  
  
"Honestly... I don't know," he replied truthfully.  
  
"You know what that says?" she asked, pointing up at a plaque above the mantelpiece. Scott tilted his head to read it, but he didn't recognize the language. It wasn't German, he'd had that uploaded after Kurt had thoroughly annoyed him with some choice German curses.  
  
"It's latin," she clarified when he made no response. "Means - 'Know Thyself' I'm gonna let you in a on a little secret. Being the One is like being in love. No one can tell you you're in love, you just know it. It's that simple."  
  
Scott highly doubted that.  
  
"Well, as long as you're here, I'd better have a look at you," she said as she stood, stretching out a hand towards Scott. He took it in his own, guiding it forward, and she ran her fingers along his cheeks, studying his features in the way only blind people could. "My, you're cuter than I thought... I see why she likes you."  
  
"She?"  
  
"Not very bright though," she added with a smirk as she examined Scott's features. "Okay, now I'm supposed to say 'hmmm, that's interesting' but..."  
  
"But what?"  
  
"But you already know what I'm going to tell you," she replied, her hands dropping back down as she took a step back and moving back to the kitchen counter. The implication took a second, then hit Scott like a ton of bricks.  
  
"I'm not the One."  
  
"Sorry kid... you've got the gift, but it looks like you're waiting for something," she replied, turning back towards her cooking.  
  
"What?" he asked.  
  
"You're next life maybe," she replied with a shrug. "Who knows?"  
  
Scott, unexpectedly, starting to chuckle at that.  
  
"What's so funny?" she asked, turning back to regard him.  
  
"Wolverine," he replied. "I dunno he... he almost had me convinced."  
  
"I know..." she said with a sigh. "Poor Logan. Without him, we're lost."  
  
"What do you mean, without him?" asked Scott. He felt another chill run down his spine.  
  
"Are you sure you want to hear this?" asked Destiny cautiously. Scott nodded. After a question like that, who could possibly say no? "Wolverine believes in you, Scott Summers. And no one, not you, not even me can convince him otherwise. He believes it all so blindly... he's going to sacrifice his life to save yours."  
  
"What?" breathed Scott softly, unable to think of anything else to say. It all seemed incredible. Wolverine was one of the most level-headed people he'd ever known.  
  
"You're going to have to make a choice. In one hand you will have Logan's life... in the other you will have yours. One of you is going to die," she said softly. "Which one... will be up to you. I'm sorry kid I really am... you have a good soul... and I hate giving good people bad news," she added with a smile.  
  
Then she stood up, making her way to the counter and selecting a tray of cookies, offering them to Scott.  
  
"Here, take a cookie. I promise by the time you're done eating it, you'll be as right as rain. You'll remember you don't believe in this fate crap. You're in charge of your own destiny, remember?"  
  
Scott, numbly, reached out and selected a cookie, taking a bite. It -was- good he realized, and he immediately felt a little better.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
"What was said was for you alone bub," stated Wolverine as Scott entered the room where he sat, patiently waiting. The old lady had escorted him. "You don't have to tell anyone what she told you," he added, slipping back on his familiar sunglasses.  
  
Scott finished his cookie, and they exited the house, meeting up with Spyke and Rogue and driving back towards home.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Authors Notes: In case anyone is trying to keep casting notes on this story, let me help save some time. Jean Grey has appeared twice, as the "woman in the red dress" and as a younger version of herself as the "spoon girl" The other Potentials included non-Evo characters such as Betsy Braddock, AKA Psylocke and Kevin MacTaggert, AKA Proteus (and I think I heard him called Mutant X somewhere too).  
  
In case anyone is confused by in-and-out of Matrix mutant powers, I shall elaborate. Mutant abilities function in both, but anyone who suffered a childhood mishap (i.e. Scott getting banged on the head, Wolverine's Weapon- X ordeal) does not suffer the same outside of the Matrix because, quite frankly, it never happened. Its all in their heads.  
  
Rogue is able to control her powers in reality as well, but I'll explain why in a few upcoming chapters. If anyone wants a hint, lets just say I "borrowed" the idea from the Fanfiction goddess Internutter. 


	13. Chapter Twelve: Conflict

Chapter Twelve: Conflict  
  
Bobby Drake, Iceman as the crew of the Blackbird knew him, had to hobbies outside of his daily routine of training and Matrix-hacking. Women, and goofing off.  
  
Right now he was indulging both.  
  
Many magazines that he doubtlessly was -not- reading for the articles lay strewn about as he lounged in the recliner, examining his latest find. The cell phone to one side rang and he reached over, flipping it open and placing it against his ear, already suspecting who it was. He was fortunate... not many people knew the number on his phone. It kept away a great number of tele-marketers.  
  
"They're on their way," stated the Beast.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
In reality, Beast finished his call in question, then his eyes narrowed at the Matrix code before him. Was it a trick of the light, or had it just... shifted a little from when he last saw it?  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Scott and the others left behind the car and headed up the stairs of the hotel building, heading towards the phone that led out of the Matrix and back to reality. Their work here was done.  
  
Scott, dropping behind, happened to notice a strange occurence then. A cat, ebon furred and yellow eyed, walked past one of the open thresholds with a soft mew. Then, as Scott watched curiously, the exact same cat seemed to do the same.  
  
"Whoa... déjà vu," he stated softly.  
  
Rogue, Wolverine, and the others present who'd heard him, stopped dead in their tracks.  
  
"What did ya'll just say?" asked Rogue.  
  
"Nothing. Just had a little déjà vu," replied Scott with an easy smile.  
  
"What happened? What did you see?" she asked, fear lingering in her every word. Scott, sensing this was serious but unsure how, did his best to reply.  
  
"A... black cat went past us... then I saw another and it looked just like the first."  
  
"How like tha first, was it the same cat?" asked Rogue quietly.  
  
"I guess... I dunno," replied Scott. "Why, what's wrong?"  
  
"I hate cats," Rogue cursed under her breath as she and the others began a rapid ascent of the stairs, heading quickly up towards the phone that was their lifeline. "Déjà vu is a glitch in the Matrix. It happens when they change something," she explained to Scott.  
  
"Oh no," said Wolverine softly.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
"It's a trap," stated Beast. He could see now clearly what they'd changed... and it didn't bode well for his companions in the Matrix.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
"Oh shit!" cursed Iceman, icing up immediately, his body coated in the white, semi-transparent solid that was his speciality as he crouched and prepared to fight.  
  
The door flung off its hinges as armed troopers poured in, and Iceman let them have it, shooting off ice blasts, freezing those he could, impaling others in shards of ice, doing anything and everything he could to win, but the battle was hopeless. For every six troopers he took a dozen more took their place, and their bullets ripped through the ice like it was tissue paper, and met even less resistance as they found the body of the Iceman and tore him to piece, slamming him hard against the far wall and letting his frozen corpse shatter into a million bloody icicles that rained down on the floor.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
"Oh god no!" shouted Beast, pounding his keyboard, forced to watch helplessly as Bobby Drake was killed. Nearby Multiple, who'd managed to escape after the first warning, lay huddled in the corner as Bobby's lifeless body twitched and squirmed in his chair, and then his life-rate monitor flatlined, and he was gone.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Elsewhere in the building, the main powerline was cut, scant seconds after Jamie Madrox has escaped the Matrix. The wicked owner of the cutting tools grinned to himself, and his long green tongue snaked out, grabbing a nearby fly as it passed too close and devouring it.  
  
"Only a matter of time now, yo," he said with a grin.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
"Let's get out of here!" shouted Wolverine, popping his claws and slicing through a doorway into the final room where their escape lay. Thankfully he saw no sign of Multiple, but they'd all heard the final death cry of Iceman.  
  
"Hope Destiny gave you some good news," said Sunspot as the others ran into the room, barricading the door and checking the windows... only to find them bricked up. It would take them hours to blast their way through, even with the combined powers of Cyclops, Sunspot and Magma. And by then it would be too late.  
  
"That's what they changed," cursed Spyke as he ran in last. "Great, we're trapped... there's no way out!"  
  
"Give me your phone stripes," said Wolverine, holding out his hand. Rogue slapped her cell phone into it.  
  
"They'll be able to track it," she said softly in warning.  
  
"We have no choice," he replied.  
  
"Operator?" came Beast's voice on the other end of the line.  
  
"Beast. Find the structural designs of this building. Sometime soon would be preferable," he added, his keen ears detecting the incoming troops. They were getting a little too close for comfort. Not that he was too worried just yet. Though it would've been tough for anything short of an Agent to kill him, the others did not possess the same sort of healing prowess the Wolverine did.  
  
"Got it," came the reply over the phone.  
  
"I need the main wet wall," he replied. Hank guided them through the rooms, as they snuck along, Magma cursing her choice of clothing since the coloration made her stand out so well as the others slunk along almost at one with the shadows.  
  
"Okay.. left... and that's in front of you," stated the Beast, leading them through the lavatories.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
"They're on the eighth floor," said Agent Alvers, as he dropped Iceman's cellphone. Though Beast and Wolverine had just terminated the link, it was too late... the damage was done.  
  
Alvers stepped onto the icy shards of the defeated renegade, crushing them and smearing his boots with blood as he walked past without a backward glance.  
  
He smirked... soon it would all be over.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Cops and swat teams swarmed throughout the eighth floor on Agent Alvers command, though none seemed to take notice of a rather new hole recently added to the men's room. A hole that could conveniently fit a human being through it.  
  
Cyclops and the others waited in the plumbing vents, arms and legs spread to keep themselves from falling as they waited, quietly, patiently, for an opening to escape.  
  
One cop, braver or stupider than his companions, had decided to wander off alone and was examining the bathrooms when he heard a noise. Spyke, inside, grimaced as he slipped, his arms digging sharply into the wall in an effort to keep from falling, spikes protruding from his limbs to dig into the wall.  
  
On the other side, the cop could just barely see the tips of the spikes, leaning in closer to examine them when realization dawned on him.  
  
"They're in the walls!"  
  
Rogue cursed and pulled Spyke free of the way as the cop opened fire and lay waste to the wall. Wolverine, above, lifted his legs up and out of the way of fire, and Scott, below, raises his glasses and returned fire, forcing the cop back out of the room, though it did them little good now.  
  
The cop was about to whirl back in and lay waste to all these terrorists, when a sudden feeling came over him, that to this day he could not describe. A feeling of, blackness, somehow...  
  
Agent Lance Alvers, Avalanche, smirked and straightened out his tie as he took the cops place. Grinning he leapt forward and shot his hands through the thin walls of the building, grabbing onto Cyclops's throat.  
  
"It's an Agent!" shouted Spyke in alarm. Cyclops grimaced, struggling to free himself, when he heard a distinct snikt of metal popping free and heard a battle-cry he knew all too well.  
  
Wolverine plunged himself right through the thin wall just above Cyclops, coming down hard atop of Agent Alvers, slamming him to the ground and giving Scott the much-needed space and time to breath before he passed out.  
  
"Wolverine!" shouted Rogue, starting to climb up and come to his rescue.  
  
"No! Rogue, get Cyclops out of here! Do you understand?! He's all that matters now!" came the reply. The words hit Scott like a battering ram in his gut. Destiny...  
  
"No! Wolverine!" he shouted, trying to warn him.  
  
"Rogue, get out of here!" shouted Wolverine back, not listening to Scott.  
  
Rogue cursed something fierce and grabbed Scott's ankle, yanking him and the others below her down the slippery tubes of the plumbing system to the relative safety of the downstairs garage, leaving Wolverine alone in the company of an Agent.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Despite the death-grip on his throat, Agent Alvers could only grin up at his opponent.  
  
"The great Wolverine... we meet at last," he said with something close to awe in his voice.  
  
"And you are?" asked Wolverine.  
  
"Alvers, Agent Lance Alvers."  
  
Wolverine growled as Agent Alvers's hands closed over his own and he started to pry his fingers from his throat with inhuman strength. Thinking quickly, Wolverine headbutted him, shattering his glasses. Unfazed, Agent Alvers grinned up, and returned the headbutt, knocking him up and off of Alver's body, who slapped the floor to either side of him and rose to his feet with a deadly grin on his face.  
  
Wolverine launched himself forward, claws extended, but like his first spar with Scott, the battle was decidedly one-sided. And unlike his battle with Scott, the opponent who started out losing... lost.  
  
In the end, a vicious kick send Wolverine flying into the far wall, where it shattered under the impact, and he fell forward onto his stomach, his claws retracting as he went unconscious. Agent Lance Alvers just adjusted his tie and grinned, then turned back in time to see the remaining members of the cop force behind him.  
  
"Take him." 


	14. Chapter Thirteen: From Bad to Worse

Chapter Thirteen: From Bad to Worse  
  
Elsewhere, Scott, Rogue, Magma and Sunspot had escaped from the confines of the building and were on the run, moving as a pack towards one of their emergency exits. Beast was monitoring them in reality, Nightcrawler hanging over his shoulder, watching fearfully.  
  
"Operator?" said Beast, when he received another call, expecting it to be from them. Instead he got Spyke.  
  
"I need an exit, fast!"  
  
"Spyke? How'd you get out?" asked Beast incredulously.  
  
"There was an accident! A goddamn car accident, all of a sudden just boom! Someone up there must still like me," he said, starting to ramble.  
  
"I got you one. Nearest exit is Franklin and Erie. An old T.V. repair shop," said Beast, tapping onto his computer screen to pull up information. Evan nodded, slipping his skateboard out of his backpack and riding it all the way to the repair shop, even as Rogue called Beast and got a similar message, and her group followed along, arriving shortly after Spyke had exited the Matrix.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Evan Daniels smirked as he awoken in reality, knowing it would be his last time. As Beast turned back to facilitate the escape of the other crew members, Evan set to work.  
  
In the timeline, few weapons were available, and most of those that were, were used by the machines. Humans hadn't had time to manufacture sidearms that were all but useless, EMP generators and ways to keep alive were their own priorities. Weapons smaller than a nuke or a large missile weren't ever built, really. Thus, Evan found himself forced to rely on less primitive means to eliminate his newly unwanted house guests.  
  
Picking up a spare energy cable normally used to power the ship, he carefully took aim and shot Beast, right through the back below his heart, killing the great furry mutant in a matter of minutes. Nightcrawler caught sight of this, and hesitated for a moment out of shock, which was all the time Evan needed to slice through his stomach and send him flying into a nearby wall. Then he quickly turned his attention to the still-cowering in the corner Multiple, took careful aim, and made it mercifully quick, right through the head. The little guy deserved that much, at least.  
  
Grinning, he dropped the makeshift weapon and made his way to the control console, taking off Beasts's headset and slipping it on, adjusting it to his own, much smaller dimensions.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
One the other side, moments from escape, the phone suddenly went dead in Scott's hand.  
  
"What happened?" asked Rogue.  
  
"I dunno," he replied, handing to her. She listened to the dead line for a moment, confused, then pulled out her cellphone to re-establish contact with the Blackbird.  
  
"Hello Rogue," came Spyke's reply, soft, casual.  
  
"Spyke? Where's Beast?"  
  
"There was an accident," he replied casually, as if he was speaking of the weather report.  
  
"An accident?!"  
  
"You know... for the longest time, I had this crush on you, Rogue... I used to dream about you..." he stated into the headset, running his hands along Rogue's auburn hair, safe from her deadly touch, even in reality.  
  
Inside the Matrix, Rogue went pale.  
  
"Pity things had to work out like this," Spyke went on.  
  
"Ya'll killed them, didn't ya?" she asked quietly. Around, the others tensed fearfully. They'd been betrayed by one of their own!  
  
"I'm tired, Rogue... tired of this war, tired of this ship, of being cold, of eating the same damn goop, three times a day, every day... of never having anywhere to skate. But most of all... I'm tired of this stupid bastard and all his lies!" he added, shifting himself over to Wolverine's chair, who still lay there, looking oddly at peace despite his turmoil in the Matrix.  
  
"Surprise asshole! Bet you never even saw it coming, didja? Never thought good ol' Spyke would be good enough for your team, didja? Ooooh... I wish I could be there when they break you. Right when it happens, just to let you know," he said with a triumphant grin, speaking as much to himself as the others in the Matrix.  
  
"Ya'll gave them Wolverine," said Rogue in shock, everything coming together.  
  
"He lied to us, Rogue! He tricked us! If he'd told us the truth, we would've told him to shove that red pill up his ass!"  
  
"That's not true. He set us free," replied Rogue.  
  
"Free?!" yelled Spyke, gesturing around at their ripped up, messed up, runs on improvisation engineering ship. "You call this free? Here all I do is what he tells us to. If I have to choose between that and the Matrix, I choose the Matrix."  
  
"The Matrix isn't real!" Rogue shouted into his headset, on the verge of hysterics.  
  
"Oh I disagree, Rogue... I think the Matrix is very real. I mean, here all I do is pull the plug," he stated, making his way over to Roberto's sleeping form. "But there... you have to watch Sunspot die."  
  
Sunspot's eyes went wide as he caught the last bit of the conversation, his body trembling. Then suddenly he collapsed, dead in an instant.  
  
"Welcome to the real world," Evan cooed softly into Rogue's ear.  
  
"But you're out, Evan," she said, once more trying to reason with him. "You can't get back in."  
  
"That's what you think. You think I haven't planned this out, have I? That I'm just some stupid kid. Well guess again. They've promised to take me back. They're going to reinsert my body, I go back to sleep, and when I wake up, I'll be rich and famous and won't remember a goddamn thing. Oh by the way," he added as he made his way over to Amara's cable. "If you have anything terribly important to tell Magma I suggest you do it now."  
  
"Not like this..." whispered Amara softly, her eyes tearful. For the first time since Scott had known her, she'd let down her walls. "Not like this..." she then collapsed, as Roberto had, dead.  
  
"Goddamn you Spyke!" she roared over the phone. Next to her, Scott shivered. He sensed he was next...  
  
"Don't hate me Rogue I'm just a messenger," he replied, making his way over to Scott's prone form. "And right now I'm going to prove it. If Wolverine was right, then there's no way I can pull this plug. I mean if Scott is the One, then in the next few seconds there's going to have to be some kind of a miracle to stop me, right? I mean, how can be the One if he's dead? You never did answer me, Rogue, when I asked you before. Come on, you can tell me. All I want is a little yes or no. Look at that face, Rogue..." he stated, and Rogue, in the Matrix, reluctantly complied, listening to Spyke, thinking back to what Destiny had told her, her own experiences with Cyclops, with Scott Summers.  
  
"Yes or no?"  
  
"... yes."  
  
"No!"  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
In reality, Spyke could only watch in shock as all his well made, carefully prepared plans crumbled around his ears. Multiple stood there, a grim expression on his childlike face, his hands holding the power cable Spyke had used to fry the others. Behind him, his "corpse" faded out of view. A goddamn copy!  
  
"I don't believe this..." he swore.  
  
"Believe it or not, you're still going to fry!" shouted Jamie angrily, tears staining his cheeks as he activated the device and fried Spyke's body until there was little doubt left in his mind that he was good and dead. Even so he continued to shoot, angrily, as if doing so would bring back all his friends, his family...  
  
Gently a hand lay on his shoulder, and reluctantly he stopped, looking up at the visage of the friendly blue mutant Nightcrawler. Sniffling, Jamie threw down the weapon and opened cried on Kurt's shoulder, who patted his back and comforted the young boy as best he could. Reluctantly he let go, so he could finish what Beast had started, and bring the remaining members out of the Matrix and to the relative safety of reality.  
  
Scott and Rogue awoke almost simultaneously, gazing around them at the destruction, seeing Kurt, his shoulder bandaged, one arm hanging loosely in a sling, Jamie, crying in the nearby chair, trying to be brave and failing miserably. And here and there, the bodies of Spyke and Beast, and those who hadn't made it out of the Matrix. 


	15. Chapter Fourteen: Wolverine's Ordeal

Chapter Fourteen: Wolverine's Ordeal  
  
Inside the Matrix, deep at its very heart, lay a building, over fifty stories high. No business existed within its wall, no government organization, it existed solely for the purpose of housing the Agents who now stood on the uppermost floor, gazing out through the glass wall at the surrounding city of Bayville.  
  
"Ever just stood and marveled at it, Wolverine?" asked Agent Alvers as he did just that. "Marveled at its beauty? At its genius? Billions of people living out their lives... oblivious."  
  
Wolverine didn't bother with a reply. He'd been shackled into a chair in the back of the room, to the point of being unable to so much as twitch his body, shackled in thick adamantium bonds, and his body was hooked up to a number of electrode monitors that were, in truth, being used to hack into Wolverine like a computer program. He knew what was coming next, he knew what they wanted. If he could've he would've ended it right here and now, but he couldn't. He could only remain defiant.  
  
"Did you know that the first Matrix," Alvers went on. "Was designed to be the perfect human world? Heaven, where none suffered... where everyone would be happy. It was a disaster... no one would accept the program. Entire crops were lost. Some... believed we lacked the programming language to describe your perfect world, but I believe that, as a species, humans and mutants better define their reality through suffering and misery. So the Matrix was remade to this," he said with a gesture at the city before them. "The peak of your civilization. I say -your- civilization because as soon as we started thinking for you it really became -our- civilization. Which is, of course, what all this is about."  
  
Agent Alvers walked up straight to Wolverine and peered down at him through his dark sunglasses. "Evolution, Wolverine. Evolution. Like the mutant beginnings, a stronger race replaces the weaker. Look out that window," he ordered, though Wolverine was strained enough he hadn't bothered to turn his head. "You had your time... humans and mutants both. The future is our world, and our time."  
  
The door then opened, and Agent Dukes entered, with a concerned look behind his sunglasses.  
  
"We may have a problem."  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
"What are they doing to him?" asked Scott quietly. Kurt, over where he had finished covering up the last of the dead bodies, including his mentor, made his way over to Scott to answer his question. Jamie had been sent to bed in the lower reaches of the ship, exhausted from his ordeal.  
  
"Breaking into his mind... its like hacking into a computer for them, all it takes is time," he said softly, his eyes downcast.  
  
"How much time?"  
  
"Depends on the mind, but eventually, it will crack and his alpha patterns vill change, from this... to this..." he added with a tap, showing Wolverine's brainwaves going from chaotic to symmetrical. "And he'll tell them anything they vant to know."  
  
"What do they want?"  
  
"The leader of every ship is given the codes to tha Zion's mainframe computer," replied Rogue. "If an Agent had those codes and got inside tha computer..."  
  
"Then ve're completely fucked," finished Kurt. "Ve can't let that happen. Zion is more important than us, than Wolverine, even than you, Scott," he said.  
  
"There has to be something we can do," replied Scott, running a hand through his hair, wringing it in frustration.  
  
"There is... ve pull the plug," Kurt replied.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
"Never send a human to do a machine's job..." stated Agent Alvers with disgust.  
  
"If, indeed, the inside has failed, they will attempt to sever the connection as soon as possible, unless..." stated Agent Dukes.  
  
"They're dead, in any case," continued Agent Tolenski, not missing a beat.  
  
"We have no choice but to proceed, as planned," replied Agent Alvers. "Deploy the Sentinels. Now."  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Kurt, Rogue and Scott gathered around their fallen leader as Kurt prepared to cut his connection and pull his plug... sacrificing Wolverine for the sake of the city he fought his entire life for.  
  
"Volverine, you're more than just a leader to us... you've been our father. And ve vill miss you, always," stated Kurt, crossing himself and lowering his head respectfully as he reached down to pull out Wolverine's cable.  
  
"Stop..."  
  
Kurt and Rogue looked up in surprise, and Scott did too, as if he hadn't realized he'd spoken until just that moment.  
  
"I... I can't believe this is happening..." Scott said.  
  
"Scott, this has to be done," replied Kurt.  
  
"Does it? I don't know... this just can't be coincidence, it can't be."  
  
"Vhat are you babbling about?" asked Kurt, confused.  
  
"Destiny... she told me this would happen... she told me..." he stopped then, pausing, hesitant. "That I would make a choice."  
  
"What choice?" asked Rogue quietly.  
  
Scott didn't reply, he just made his choice. Turning, he walked back to his chair and started to set it up, he was going back in.  
  
"What are ya doin'?" Rogue asked.  
  
"I'm going in," he replied.  
  
"Ya can't!" she stated.  
  
"I have to..."  
  
"Wolverine sacrificed himself to get ya out. There's no way in hell ya'll're goin' back in," she stated angrily, placing a restraining hand on his wrist.  
  
"Wolverine did that because he believed I'm something I'm not," replied Scott, not wishing to break the truth to anyone, especially not her, but now he had no choice.  
  
"What?" demanded Rogue, still angrily, as if she was choking back tears.  
  
"I'm not the One," replied Scott.  
  
"No... ya have to be..." she replied.  
  
"I'm sorry, I'm not... I'm just another mutant renegade," he replied. "Wolverine is the one that matters here."  
  
"No, Scott... that's not true. It can't be true," she replied.  
  
"Why?" asked Scott curiously. Rogue couldn't reply, her voice seemed caught in her throat.  
  
"Scott, this is crazy!" added Kurt as Scott prepped his chair and cable. "That is a military compound they're holding him in! Even if you manage to get inside somehow those are Agents holding him. Three of them. I vant Wolverine back too, but vhat you're talking about is suicide."  
  
"I know what this looks like, but it's not," said Scott, his voice calm, his manner completely under control. This was not the hysterical act of a child. "Wolverine believed something and he was ready to give his life for what he believed. I understand that now. That's why I have to go."  
  
"Why?" asked Rogue.  
  
"Because I believe in something."  
  
"What?"  
  
"I believe I can bring him back."  
  
Rogue and Kurt just watched him for a moment then, exchanging a glance that showed they both thought the exact same thing... this seems crazy... but it isn't.  
  
Rogue slipped up to the chair alongside Scott's and started to prep it while Kurt slipped into the operators' seat anxiously.  
  
"What are you doing?" asked Scott.  
  
"Ah'm comin' with ya," replied Rogue, still setting up her cable.  
  
"No, you're not," he started to protest, then stopped when he saw her expression as she turned back around to face him.  
  
"No? Let me tell ya, what ah believe. Ah believe Wolverine means more to me than he does to you. Ah believe that if ya'll're serious about this ya'll're gonna need mah help. And since ah am currently the ranking officer, if ya'll don't like it, ah believe ya'll can go to hell. Because you aren't goin' anywhere else," she stated, in the same tones Scott had, and there was no arguing with her.  
  
"Kurt... load us up." 


	16. Chapter Fifteen: Calm before the Storm

Chapter Fifteen: Calm before the Storm  
  
Deep within the virtual fortress that was the Agents building, Agent Alvers had pulled up a chair in front of his prisoner, to pass time by talking with him.  
  
"I'd like to share a revelation that I've had during my time here," he stated, steepling his fingers as he sat in front of Wolverine, who looked more bored than interested. "It came to me when I tried to classify your species... and I realized that you aren't, strictly speaking, mammals. Mammals, instinctively, develop a natural equilibrium with the environment... but you humans and mutants do not. You move to an area and you multiply and multiply until every natural resource is consumed or destroyed, and the only way to survive is to spread to another area."  
  
Agent Alvers leaned forward with a self-satisfied grin.  
  
"There is one other creature on this planet that follows the same pattern, do you know what it is?"  
  
Wolverine didn't, nor did he care, but instead of voicing his opinion he kept his mouth shut. It was starting to get worse. The hacking program was starting to break down his defenses, and soon he'd been at their mercy. He started to sweat, his body instinctively trying to reject the intrusion into his system, but it was to no avail. He'd last longer than most... given his regenerative powers... but no one could hold out forever.  
  
"A virus," he replied with a knowing smirk. "Human beings... are a disease... a cancer. You are a plague... and we..." he added dramatically "Are the cure."  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Rogue and Scott stood in the iron-gray expanse of the Construct, communicating with Kurt who operated the computers to give them what they were going to need.  
  
"Alright, vhat you guys need?" he asked, before adding under his breath, "Besides a miracle...?"  
  
"Guns," replied Scott. "Lots of guns."  
  
A click in the real world and a sudden whoosh of movement in the Construct and Scott and Rogue were literally surrounded by all manner of firearms of every shape and size. Scott immediately made his way down one rack, making his selection.  
  
"Scott... no one has evah done anything lahke this before," said Rogue quietly behind him.  
  
"I know... that's why its going to work," he replied, snapping the magazine into his weapon of choice and clicking off the safety.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Agent Alvers angrily paced near the gigantic window, glancing at his subject, the Wolverine, with no more than a little venom in his gaze. Gone was his gloating, now he was angry, and the glass trembled as the building vibrated under his power.  
  
"Why isn't the hacking working?" he asked angrily, more to himself than anyone else.  
  
"Perhaps we are asking the wrong questions," replied Agent Tolenski. Agent Alvers growled, turning, facing away from his comrades as he formed a fist.  
  
"Leave me with him..." he stated, suddenly, causing his companions to glance at each other in confusion. "Now," he added. Reluctantly, his the giant and the toad slunk out of the room, closing the door and locking Wolverine in with Agent Alvers, who again took up a seat right in front of Wolverine, sliding off his sunglasses and removing his earpiece.  
  
Despite all this, Wolverine could barely notice him anymore he was too awashed in pain from his neural hacking, his body was all but drenched in sweat right now. He continued to strain against his bonds, but it was a hopeless battle.  
  
"Can you hear me, Wolverine?" asked Agent Alvers. "I'm going to be honest with you... I... -Hate-... this place..." he said, that one word carrying such incredible loathing it almost knocked Wolverine backwards. "This zoo, this prison, this... reality, whatever you care to call it. I simply cannot stand it any longer. It's the smell," he added with something of a sarcastic smile. "I feel saturated by it... I can taste your stink... and every time I do... I fear I've been infected by it... by you... humanoids..." he growls, his hands gripping either side of Wolverine's head, who winced as pressure began to apply to his adamantium skull.  
  
"I must get out of here... and in this mind is the key. My key... Once Zion is destroyed, there will no longer be any need for me here. Do you understand? I need those codes, Wolverine... tell them to me... tell them to me NOW!" he growled, and the building started to shake a little more. Not enough to cause damage, but enough to cause serious unrest among the inhabitants therein. "You are going to tell me," added Agent Alvers, his fingers starting to apply more pressure, until Wolverine's skull started to buckle under the pressure. "You are going to tell me, or you are going to die."  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Outside of the Matrix, Kurt watched nervously, in anticipation, glancing over at the body of their fallen leader, he could see what he was going through.  
  
"Hang on, Wolverine... just a little longer..." 


	17. Chapter Sixteen: War

**Chapter Sixteen: War**

To say the guard on duty was bored was an understatement.  He sometimes wondered why he had this job at all, nobody ever bothered to enter half the time, just the stupid suits, and they took the roof entrance by helicopter more often than not.

Thus, when a stranger entered, the guard on duty was even a little relieved he had something better to do than read the newspaper.  The fellow certainly didn't look much like a terrorist, just some punk kid, dressed all in black, head to toe.  Probably a son of one of the higher-ups.  What did catch his attention, however, were the strange object covering his eyes, like a pair of wrap-around sunglasses with a single, narrow piece of red glass for him to see through.

The metal detector beeped audibly when the kid stepped through, so the guard obligingly stepped up with his metallic sweeper, though he suspected the kids strange sunglasses were the cause.  Still, he had his duty.  His other four fellow officers watched with various degrees of interest and boredom.

"Can you please remove any metallic items you have... keys... loose change..." he started boredly.

To his surprise, the kid's hands dropped to either side of his black trench coat and flung it open wide.  Underneath he wore some sort of strange black spandex uniform, which covered him from toe to neck.  A red X insignia stretched across his chest.  Overlaid over that he wore a series of holsters and belts that held a wide array of guns, knives, and other such lethal looking weapons.  The guard's mouth dropped in shock.

"Holy shit!" he managed to make out, as the boy's hand slipped back up again to tap the side of his strange eye-wear, and from the red glass a sudden burst of reddish energy lanced forward, slamming right into the guard's head and killing him instantly, sending his body flipping end over end to land with a sickening thud halfway across the lobby.

The intruder didn't even hesitate, before the guard had even hit the floor his hands gracefully grabbed two identical weapons from their holsters and aimed to either side of his body, letting bullets fly.  Two of the remaining guards went down almost instantly, one spilling his coffee, the other with his newspaper ripped in half, as the final guard barely managed to dodge aside and behind a column, grabbing his radio and shouting into it.

"Backup!  Send backup!" he yelled, grabbing his own gun out of its holster as the intruder slipped behind a nearby column, out of his line of sight.  Then the metal detector alarm bleeped again, and his attention was drawn to another intruder, a girl, about as young as the first one, all in black spandex just like the first.  She two wore the same red X symbol, on that belt slung across her hips.  Belatedly he raised his gun, but she was faster, and empty her magazine into his head without so much as a glance in his direction.

Cyclops smirked, dropping his empty clips as he and Rogue made their way to the front of the lobby.  His new visor was working just as he had hoped it would.  Saved considerable time from him removing his sunglasses, and he could even adjust the field with the dial on the side.  He was glad Wolverine had been preparing them all for something like this.  Rogue discarded her empty weapon as well, drawing a new one from the holster at her side, while Cyclops rearmed himself with some fresh guns, there'd been no time to reload the first ones.

Guards were pouring into the lobby, one behind each column.  No ordinary, cops off-duty guards.  Swat teams, armed with assault rifles and armored in kevlar vests, all ready for a fight.

"Freeze!" ordered their commander.

Cyclops and Rogue glanced at each other, and nod once.

Then they separate in both directions, firing and dodging, moving behind columns and moving with inhuman speed and grace as the guards opened fire and the air whistled with the deadly sting of bullets.

Cyclops dove left, firing at his opponents, dodging to place his back against a column, guns up and ready.  When he heard his opponents run out of bullets and pause he made his move, leaping forward and fire indiscriminately, taking down three such offers while hardly breaking his stride.

Rogue gracefully flipped end over end, as graceful as an acrobat, behind another set of columns, leaping forward and high-kicking the nearest guard right in his face, sending him flying through the air as she flipped backwards and landed gracefully on her feet before he even hit the ground.  Another guard, this one armed with a shotgun, took a shot at her, but she quickly dodged back behind a column.

Cyclops plowed forward through the enemy ranks, discharging his guns as quickly as they ran out of bullets, very fast indeed.  Soon, however, he found himself without a gun within easy reach, and instead switched tactics.  Though not quite as graceful as Rogue, he managed quite well with a forward flip that brought one of the dead guards fallen assault rifles into his grip.  Another series of flips brought him within reach of the dead guards comrades and he opened fired, sending them to join their friend in the afterlife.  He dodged behind another column, tossing aside the now empty assault rifle and pulling out two more small guns, as the shotgun guard turned his attention to Cyclops and started to blow chunks out of the column he was hiding behind.

Rogue saw her partners dilemma and slipped behind the shotgun guard, snapping off a glove and pressing her bare hands to his neck, dropping him cold.  As his body slumped forward she kicked the shotgun up out of his hands and into hers, taking aim and shooting down two remaining guards as Cyclops shot down the last three and optic blasted the commander right through the side wall.

As the smoke cleared, Cyclops and Rogue, not even winded by their exertions, stepped out and discarded their empty weapons, Rogue stepping aside to grab their duffle bag as Cyclops pushed the elevator call button and he and his partner stepped in with the duffle bag...

... leaving behind a room filled with corpses, bullet rounds, shattered marble columns and a general state of chaos.

                                                ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Agents Tolenski and Agent Dukes barged into the officer where Agent Alvers and Wolverine were still.  Agent Alvers immediately jumped back, his hands dropping down to his sides, as if he had been doing nothing wrong.

"What were you doing?" asked Agent Tolenski.  Agent Alvers did not reply at once, as he belatedly started to put his earplug back into place.

"He doesn't know," stated Agent Dukes quietly.

"Know what?" asked Agent Alvers angrily, pressing the earpiece into his ear.

He couldn't believe what he was hearing.

"I think they're trying to save him, yo," stated Agent Tolenski, motioning at the shivering Wolverine.

                                                ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Cyclops pulled the emergency stop button as the elevator neared the top floor, climbing up on the railing to punch at the ceiling, opening up the elevator shaft emergency panel.  Below him Rogue was busy opening up their duffle bag and taking out its contents: bomb parts.  Plastique and napalm, to be specific.

Rogue finished setting up their little gift and climbed up top the elevator car with Cyclops, who hooked a spare latch onto the elevator cable opposite the cars and pulled out his gun, firing a single shot at the car's cable, 'causing it to teeter slightly as the remaining cable strained under the weight.

Cyclops nodded, holding out his hand, and Rogue stepped into his embrace.  He held on securely, looking up briefly, then down, taking careful aim with his weapon.

"There is no spoon," he stated softly.

Cyclops took his shot, and their was a loud booming noise as the elevator began to rapidly decent.  The counter-weights kicked in immediately, sending Cyclops and Rogue to the roof while the elevator and its contents rocked towards the ground.

The elevator doors dinged quietly as it hit bottom...

... then the lobby doors floor off as its contents exploded, filling the room with waves of super-hot flame.

                                                ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

On the Agent's floor, the sprinklers went off, drenching them all within seconds.  Agent Alver's expression grew, if possible, even darker.

"Find them and destroy them!" he barked over the sounds of alarms and sprinklers.  Nodding, Agent Tolenski placed his hand to his earpiece, listening...

                                                ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"I repeat, we're under attack!" shouted the helicopter pilot, watching as two black-clad teenagers ripped through the ranks of his fellow guards, not even using their weapons, just well placed punches and kicks, taking them all out in seconds...

Then suddenly blackness overcame him, and his consciousness faded.  To be replaced by...

Agent Tolenski.

With a grin and an agile leap he cleared the helicopter and landed on the rooftops right behind Cyclops.  Rogue, right in front of  him, watched in fear, and Cyclops, reading her expression, could tell immediately what was behind him.

He didn't hesitate.

Cyclops whirled around.  His guns were gone but he was far from defenseless.  His hand tapped his visor as he took careful aim, shooting off another powerful optic blast right at his opponents chest.  To his astonishment, however, the Agent was fast.  Even faster than Wolverine.  He dodged the blast without so much as a moving his feet, just twisting his body.  Cyclops watched in horror as his frog-like opponent grinned at him, and he launched a quick series of smaller shots, one after another, aiming the first one at the Agent to force him to dodge and the others in any possible direction he could do so, but again to his surprise the Agent was faster than he looked, his body a blur as he gracefully moved in and out of the red blasts of energy with perfect timing, standing their unharmed.

With a sadistic grin, the Agent drew his gun from the holster, and slowly took aim at the now helpless Cyclops.

"Rogue...!" he shouted, bracing himself.  "Help...!!"

Agent Tolenski fired, and Cyclops reacted purely by instinct, flinging his arm out of the line of fire.  He barely registered how the bullet missed him by scant inches, he wasn't thinking anymore, just acting on instinct, working, on a subconscious level, to move as Wolverine had taught him.  Agent Tolenski fired again, and again, bullets whizzing past Cyclops, but he dodged another, and another, until finally one sheared his leg and he dropped onto his back in surprise.

Grinning, Agent Tolenski leapt up and landed gracefully next to Cyclops' prone form, taking careful aim right between his eyes.

"Only a mutant," he stated with disgust.

There was a click and the cold barrel of a gun pressed against his yellowish cheek.  Agent Tolenski glanced back, finding himself staring down the barrel of Rogue's weapon.

"Dodge this," she stated calmly, and fired.

Agent Tolenski's body went flying from the impact, dead within seconds from the bullet lodged right in his brain.  As it fell, the body shifted, becoming once more the hapless helicopter pilot who had originally been the vessel for the Agent.  He landed with a sickening thud as Rogue helped Cyclops to his feet.

"How did ya do that, Scott?" she asked, as he brushed himself off, examining his leg wound.  Thankfully, it appeared to be a grazing, nothing severe.

"Do what?" he asked, though he suspected he already knew what she meant.

"Ya moved like they do... ah've never seen anyone move that fast before."

"Wasn't fast enough," he replied with a grimace.  His wound wasn't severe but it still hurt pretty bad.  But he could worry about that once they were all safely out of the Matrix.  For now they needed transportation.  His eyes fell on the helicopter.

"Can you fly that?" he asked, glancing back at Rogue.

"Not yet," she replied with a smirk, snapping off one of her gloves and pressing it against the dead pilots cold pale cheek.  In seconds, she'd absorbed his memories, and after a few seconds of sorting, she had the ones she desired.

"Let's go."

                                                ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Agent Tolenski, in his new host, stepped into the room with his fellow Agents, wading through the thick water that was now inches deep and showed no sign of slowing.  No more potential hosts lay on the roof, so he'd had no choice but to return to his comrades.

Suddenly, over the alarms and rushing water, came the distinctive sound of an whirling, that of a helicopter.  -Their- helicopter.

Agent Alvers turned to regard the windows angrily as their helicopter dropped into view, the girl handling the controls, the boy, Mr. Summers, in the back, armed with their mounted machine gun.  That sort of thing that the military used to take out tanks.

"No," growled Agent Alvers, in denial.

The gun exploded into motion as the helicopter hovered in position on their floor, and Cyclops blanketed the room with bullets, giving the Agents virtually no room to manuver, the thick water was already making that difficult to move.

Agent Tolenski was hit first, his light, limber body flying backwards, blood spraying upwards as his weapon fell from his nerveless fingers.

Agent Dukes went next, his massive girth difficult to manuver even under the best of circumstances, and he fell backwards, his gun still going off, round after round as bullets pierced his not-so-invulnerable face, pierced his skull and shot into the soft meat of his brain.

Agent Alvers held on the longest, mostly out of anger and denial.  He was too close to loose now, to a pack of mutant kids!  But his hosts body was as vulnerable as any other to bullets, and he too fell backwards, his consciousness displaced in death like the others.

Cyclops watched, as Wolverine, seeing his chance to escape, struggled against his bonds, wholeheartedly now.  Cyclops watched, willing him forward, and Wolverine's claws shot out of his fists, as he snapped the chains holding his arms in place and sliced off the metal bindings that held him, free at last.

                                                ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Outside the room, the three marines on duty all blurred as their consciousness was replaced by that of the still active Agents.  Three very ticked off Agents, to be precise.

                                                ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Agent Alvers drop-kicked the door down, his gun out, aiming at Wolverine who was no making a run towards the helicopter and his salvation.  Alvers growled, thrusting out his free hand at the same time he opened fire, making the ground shake and causing Wolverine to loose his balance as he stumbled forward, out of the line of fire.  One shot, better placed than the rest, pierced his ankle, and he stumbled further.

"He won't make it," Cyclops growled in anger, slipping out of his seat and quickly grabbing a tether, latching it into place and leaping forward, just as Wolverine did, towards him.  The two mutants collided, Cyclops grabbing a hold of Wolverine's hand and hanging on, the tether snapping into place and making Cyclops immediately regret his decision.  Wolverine, despite his small height, had a skeleton laced with adamantium.  He weighed almost three times as much as a normal man of his size.  Still, Cyclops held on.

Rogue, watching, made no hesitation in lifting the helicopter skyward as soon as her companions were safe, up and away from the Agent's building, even as the three Agents opened fire, and their rounds pierced the rear of the helicopter, causing fire and smoke to burst forth.

"Shit!" cursed Rogue, doing her best to keep the helicopter level despite its newly acquired damage, and reluctantly drove the helicopter towards the nearest level building roof, where Wolverine and then Cyclops dropped down safely, though the latter was still tethered to the dying metal construct.

Rogue realized this as well, and also that she'd need an escape.  Fortunately she was quick to come up with a solution to both problems.  Steering the helicopter as best she could for the edge of the building she leapt out of her seat and grabbed the tether, pulling out her gun and shooting it free.  She leapt clear just as her ride slammed into the building across the street from her, exploding, sending her flying into the hard glass of the building which Wolverine and Cyclops had landed on.  Catching onto the rooftop with his feet, Cyclops braced himself, and barely caught both himself and Rogue from ending up as roadkill.

                                                ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Holy Sweet Mother of God," swore Kurt quietly, watching the screen in amazement.

                                                ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Scott pulled Rogue up and into his arms, both of them relieved the other was safe, and they turned back to the last member of their party, Wolverine, who was grinning.

"Do you believe now?" he asked quietly.

"Wolverine, Destiny, she told me..." Cyclops started to explain, but Wolverine cut him off.

"Destiny told you exactly what you  needed to hear, bub," stated Wolverine with a knowing grin.  And then it dawned on Cyclops like a load of bricks.  "Sooner or later, Cyke, you're going to realize, just like I did, that there's a difference between knowing the path... and walking it..."

                                                ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Kurt's next sentiment echoed what all of them were simultaneously thinking.

"He -is- the One."

Author's Notes: Thanks all for they're wonderful reviews.  I think I honestly had the most fun writing this particular chapter, and I hope it shows.  And, thankfully, I've finally been able to find out how to make it look that much better, with bold and italics and everything.  I'm as giddy as a schoolgirl.


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